Allusions of Power
by ReflectionsOfReality
Summary: All it takes is one moment, one decision and everything changes. A gift and a curse Harry learns the truths behind the lies and adapts. The world of darkness shall protect him when the land of light is lost. Dark!Harry
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update. The prologue is shorter than the rest will be.

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'Here I come,' he said and drained the little bottle in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body.  He walked forward.  The flames licking his body - for a moment he could see nothing but the dark fire - then he was on the other side in the last chamber.

The man that stood there should have surprised him but he kept his mouth silent.

Looking past him wondering what Dumbledore had in store he almost laughed.

_'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live...'_

Without realizing it he had whispered the words out loud.

Quirrell spun around 'You!  What did you say?'

'Just a bit of advice I was given by a wise man around Christmas time, it just seemed ironic at the moment...' Harry gave a cheeky grin as the man turned back to the mirror. 'You know I was expecting to meet Snape down here...'

'Severus?'  Quirrel laughed and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, but cold and sharp. 'Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around here like an overgrown bat.  Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel?'

'But the Quidditch match?'

'I would have succeeded, if Miss Granger had not knocked me over in an attempt to set fire to him.  She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I would have gotten you off your broom.  If it wasn't for Snape muttering the counter curse I would have done it earlier.'

'Snape was trying to save me?'

Harry was about to attack with the bluebell flame spell while Quirrel was distracted, he swore to himself that he would study some more aggressive spells if he ever made it out of this situation alive.  Just before he could even begin to utter the incantation Quirrel spun around and locked eyes with him, any doubt of the man's sanity was instantly cleared.  No sane man could have that type of madness in his eyes.  In that split second with nothing more than a snap of his fingers Harry was immobilized.  Ropes sprang out of thin air and tightly wrapped around him, Harry could feel his chances of survival dropping several significant percentage marks.

'I see myself presenting the stone to my master... But where is it?!' Quirrel paced around the mirror carefully studying the reverse side of it. 'Should I break it? Master, Help me!'

Then to Harry's horror, a cold bodiless voice hissed, 'Use the boy ...use the boy...'

His mind raced.  'I have to get the stone, if just to keep it from him'

Quirrel dropped the ropes, 'Yes you Potter, come look and tell me what you see.'

But what happened next was so unexpected.

His reflection winked at him.

Then reached in his pocket to pull out the stone...

The stone was in his pocket, he could feel it bulge.

He drew his wand and the stone at the same time not actually having a clue about what he should do.

'Give that to me!' Quirrel reached for the stone as Harry turned to run.

'Over my cold dead body!' Harry screamed turning to face his enemy realizing how futile it was to run.

'That can be arranged!' The man with the purple turban raised a wand and pointed it at Harry.

'YOU FOOL...' But the hiss came to late the curse had already left Quirrell's lips.

_'Avada Kedavra_.' 

Time stood still, the green light attacked with tidal force and struck the stone and the boy-who-lived's wand simultaneously. 

Harry saw the explosion, both the wand and stone fracturing then the searing pain as the splinters struck him.  Harry felt as if every inch of his being was on fire yet freezing at the exact same time.

Harry had a recollection of another time that he saw the flash, 'No not Harry...' cried a woman's voice ...and then...

The boy-who-lived knew no more.

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Remember reviews give the authors much needed encouragement. Trust me I only bite on Wednesdays and every other Saturday, nothing some tetanus shots cannot fix. 


	2. Fear of a Mediwitch

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update. 

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Madam Pomfrey had been up all night as it was brewing potions that she would need in her day-to-day running of the hospital wing.  With the upcoming Quidditch match, especially the last one, she knew she would have to have quite a supply for the players that will be injured.  It was not divination, but the inevitable; it ensured that she would always get plenty of experience.  

The simple potions, ones that temporarily relieved pain or that would classify potions and poisons in blood streams.  She even could do the basic sleeping potion, which almost always would speed healing. Nevertheless, the more complex ones she only trusted to a potions master, which was another plus for being within a school. 

She supposed that it was only fair considering how her most challenging cases came from the potions class.  The mediwitch hoped that Longbottom would improve by next year, more accidents than most students get into during their entire seven years.  

Bottling the pepper up potion so that it would stay for years if necessary, she moved on down her list muttering a quick cleaning spell while pointing her wand at the cauldron.

Madam Pomfrey prided herself for being among the best in her field.  She had a knack of being able to undo what many students attempted to do.  Not many would be able to deal with almost single handily half of what she did, and for this she got some satisfaction.  She knew that her talent would almost be wasted at St. Mungo's, besides the occasional accident, grown wizards just do not tend to mess up their spells like that.  She was happy to stay where she was, she liked the challenge, and she felt absolutely secure in what was definitely her realm.

Little did she know that her beliefs would very soon be shaken in a very real way.  

When her hospital wizard watch went off there were three hands that appeared.  One was Albus' the other two were students.  Though it was never specific, the fact that Albus was there was enough to worry her in and of itself, but what would have put most in panic was the fact that one of the student hands were shivering between 'just barely alive' and  'no hope'.  This was when Pomfrey's skills kicked in.  

She reached in her pocket and activated her emergency portkey.

When it came to lives, even wasted time walking down the hallway was to much.

What was amazing she had not had to use it in at least a dozen years.

...

The first bed that she saw contained a red haired freckled boy that could only be described as a Weasley.  His breathing was a little shallow and his pulse a little weak but nothing to serious.  He was not in any danger, and Madam Pomfrey did not even have to spend a second to tell he was not the one she had to be concerned about.

When she turned around, for the first time in her career, Madam Pomfrey had no idea of where to start.  Normally it would be her eyes that she would trust first, the boy was covered in blood, some still wet. That would normally be enough for her concern.  The second thing she could feel was the aura of power, magic so strong that it made her hair stand on end the moment she entered the room.  It was a presence that even a blind muggle would have been able to feel.  She almost thought that it was the boys own magic, but no human would be able to have so much, let alone one so small.  For one of the few times in her career she felt true fear.  

'Albus do you know what happened to him?' 

'Other than Avada Kedavera for the second time in his life, I have no clue...' The first thing she thought was why a child would try to use such a dark curse.

'He was trying to cast it!?' Albus' eyes darkened.

'It was cast on him.  The room was engulfed with its signature, with His signature.'  It was out of kindness that Albus did not say the name, yet the implications were even worse.

'He made it past the wards?  You mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself?' She needed it clear, cause she had to be mistaken.  He was long gone, ten years gone, by...the child 'second' time.  Pomfrey immediately cast a spell to disinfect the wounds followed by one to stop blood.  Yet neither of them worked.

'Yes, Voldemort and he was here, in spirit at least.  I think he was looking for a way to get a body for himself... The stone is gone.'  The words could spell the end for the side of the light, ten years we thought we had one only to come against such utter defeat...  Their only hope rested before her, closer to death than she would ever admit in her worse nightmares.  The fear continued to grow.

...

For three hours, Poppy tried casting spell after spell to heal the boy.  When it was cast it was like it was non existent like the magic just was not there.  

She did not notice the way the magic that surrounded him increased with each spell.  

She resigned herself to doing the work manually, using alcohol even to disinfect the many wounds.  

...

The blood had clotted naturally; she had been able to remove the shattered glass from around his eye and even the few shards that had cut through the eye itself.  He would be lucky if he ever saw again though, for even those few cuts refused to heal by spell.  With him mostly wrapped up she finally could treat her other patient.  

She was crying in frustration while she moved young Ronald away from his friend so as she could cast her standard spells to heal him.  After having one reject all her magic the other seemed easy and before long, she found herself falling asleep in a chair next to Harry Potter's bed.

...

Slowly but surely Harry surfaced through the darkness, though it was dark he felt that it was a darkness of a different kind.  An expectant darkness.  Then the voices drifted through his barely conscious mind, it was a kind thing that he missed the first part of the conversation.

'Albus the cuts are deep but at least the bleeding has stopped... is unconscious ...nothing I do seems to work.  It is as if ...you don't think...'

'Don't worry Poppy, I am sure all things will work out for the best... I will be back to talk to him later when he has rested some...'

Darkness enveloped him again, but this time it was accompanied by sweet music that gave the suggestion of a gentle golden light ...though it was as if it came from far away, a whisper on the wind of better times to come.

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Review stories that you believe deserve it. I promise that I will not bite you and to be honest I do not think many out there will. If your woried just do not expose your neck.


	3. Hints of Things to Come

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update. 

* * *

The next time that Harry surfaced, his thoughts were a little more coherent.  He was a little more aware of his surroundings and could feel that someone was standing near him.  His first attempt at opening his eyes failed.  It took him a while to actually realise that the person next to him was actually speaking to him.

'Mr. Potter I need to know what happened under the trap door.'  Everything was muffled but at least he could make out the voice.  Dumbledore.

Harry's thoughts ran in circles, 'trap door? What trap door?'  He remembered the pain, the shredding and burning of his skin.  With the memory came the actual pain.  He hurt.  Not just broken bone type pain but full some one has thrown you out of an aircraft without a parachute type pain (not that Harry had ever recalled being in an aircraft).  He hurt everywhere.

Harry fought the urge to just cry out.

The darkness he fought and eventually pushed away, something cool and damp was pressed against his face covering his eyes, for some reason it gave him comfort.  The pain faded to a dull ache.

As the swirling of thoughts and ideas slowed down Harry asked the question of himself.  'What do you know?'  

The question spoken aloud, in the harsh scratchy voice he could hardly believe as his own, served as a starting point, 'Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger have already shared their parts...' 

'Ron is OK?' The space in his mind where Harry usually thought about whether or not he should open his mouth was missing.  He felt better knowing no one was harmed because of his actions.

'Yes Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley only suffered from a mild concussion, Madam Pomfrey released him two days ago.  Now on to something a little more dire,' the tone of voice almost developed a cool edge to it, the energy in the room increased a fraction '...now we found some small fragments from the stone. Tell me what happened?' For some reason Harry felt like something was trying to get him to do something "...trust the man," the magic whispered.  He thought he trusted him already so why would the magic be trying to force him?  "...tell him all you know..."  Looking back Harry knew that each word that the Headmaster spoke was laced with the same magic, and this revelation shocked him.  Then again, Dumbledore had yet to give him a reason to doubt his sincerity or to be wary of him.  These thoughts passed through Harry's mind in the instant that the wizard before him finished the last syllable of the question.  The boy relayed the events that happened through the last door, leaving out most of the information about what he felt when the stone shattered.  As he finished the whispers of enticement vanished from his presence, leaving behind the seeds of doubt. 

'So the stone is destroyed ...it's for the best,' the wizards voice aged forty years almost resignedly. 

'What about Mr. Flamel?'

'You did do the thing properly, didn't you?'  The man seemed to realize that he was in the room still. 'Well Nicolas and I have had a little chat and agreed that the stone should be destroyed or been, it is for the best after all...'  Harry then felt a light pressure on his right hand. 

'Harry we found the remains of what I think is your wand.  The magic in the chamber destroyed the core, I am truly sorry.'  Again the magic laced words "...he is sincere" yet the fact that the magic was there led him to believe other wise.  In fact, if Harry did not know better the Headmaster almost sounded relieved.  Harry felt the magic and then something happened, it changed or he changed.  It tried to pull at him to compel him to force him to give answers.  Most of all he knew what to do to have it do what he wanted, not just fight it but to bend it to his will.

"Why was he relieved?" He silently appealed to it. Surprisingly the answer came rather quickly... "One less thing in common with Him..." How did he know about his wand being brother to Voldemort's wand? "Fawkes was the donor... The phoenix that lives with Dumbledore..."  Harry released the magic then he had no intention of holding onto it for as long as he had.  It left bitterness in the air, it was not his magic but someone else's.  

'We will cover the cost of replacement since it was lost in service to the school...'  Harry wanted to ask about why he hurt so much but the Headmaster had other intentions. 'Now no more questions you need to rest ...surviving the killing curse a second time probably took a lot out of you.  Good night, your friends will see you tomorrow.'  The pain returned ten fold as Albus Dumbledore's presence faded away.

...

The next couple days were agony for Harry.  He slipped in and out of consciousness barely recalling the conversations he shared with his friends and classmates.  But slowly the pain faded away to a mild ache and his periods of lucidity slowly lengthened.  He was still weak but he felt his energy coming back to him.  His magic returned, and for the first time he truly felt it.

...

The blackness would lessen at points where he could almost believe that he saw, something.  His head was still hurting as another argument continued to unfold in another room.

'You can't seriously be considering leaving him in the care of some muggles!  They will have no clue how to handle his condition! He needs care of proper medical wizards!' The voice of the nurse was sure to carry through the corridors of the entire school.

Albus Dumbledore's soothing voice attempted to placate the witch 'Poppy, you already commented that you believe there was nothing that you can do for him.  Are you saying that there is something that those at Mungo's could accomplish that you can not?' 

Harry knew Dumbledore was forcing her acceptance by forcing his will into his words.  Lost in his thoughts he had missed part of the response, '...here.  No train.  No Great Hall.  Just Don't!'

...

'I can not believe the nerve of him,' the nurse muttered darkly to herself.  'If he was any other wizard I know I would not allow it...' Madam Pomfrey made comments about wards and revitalizing them, 'Rubbish!'

...

The next time Harry started to come to the pain was once again gone.  He tried and succeeded to grasp the magic causing it.  

His mind shifted.

The boy-who-lived knew Albus Dumbledore was once again at his bedside.  The headmaster realised that he was indeed conscious.  Before Harry could respond the man started.

'Mr. Potter, since students can not stay at Hogwarts over the summer, I am releasing you to your relatives care...'

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If you have a question feel free to ask I will try to answer it. Thank you for showing interest **litine**. Sorry it took so long to get this bit out.


	4. Dinner Guests and Birthday Shocks

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I think I know where I am going with this story but thanks for any suggestions you have.

* * *

Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, saviour of the wizarding world was not at the closing feast.  He was not present for the final award of points, nor did he have knowledge of how Neville tipped the balance in favour of Gryffindor.  All students had been forbidden to see him, those that had had been sworn to secrecy of the state of the boy.  It would not do for the wizarding world to grow disillusioned about their hero.

After all Albus Dumbledore had bigger things to worry about than the bad publicity that would result from discovery, like how he could use the now blind boy who lived.  He still had time, and if anything Albus Dumbledore was patient.

Maybe all his efforts may not be a total waste.

Well worse case he could always start again with another one.  Plenty a witch and wizard had the potential to take on the sort of power.  'All I need is to find one that would continue to be useful.'

...

Harry's life was officially hell.

Since his arrival at Privet Drive the Dursley family had gone out of their way to make his life as miserable as possible.  He had been relocated back to his cupboard under the stairs the instant they learned of his condition, along with his trunk and broomstick, for all the good that it would do him.  

At least they no longer tried to force him to do chores, the oil burns on his hands and face had taken a week to heal.  

He still had trouble contemplating what the man he believed he trusted had done when he arrived.

_*Flashback*_

_The words were kind and nice, his condition as the headmaster called it was quickly explained.  The magic was directed in several different directions, and the suggestions that were laced in the voice had dumbfounded the Potter heir.  "Accept this," it whispered to him.  While Vernon and Petunia were given quite different message "Same as before," "No magic," "despise," "ignore," "use," "distrust," "useless freak," "frighten." _

_The ramifications of it shocked the boy, apparently his reaction was exactly the same as what would be expected from the command.  Dumbledore left not realising what he had left in his wake.  He had not noticed that moments after he apparated out that the boy had tears of anger and frustration running down his face.  Dumbledore made a serious error of judgment._

_For this was one mistake that would affect him for many years to come._

_*End Flashback*_

Since then the Dursleys had been as bad if not worse than they ever had.  Every lie that his supposed family ever told him was created by the greatest wizard alive.

The night that Dudley had pushed him into the stove with the hot oil for chips Harry swore that he would gain enough strength to stand by himself, for Harry Potter would no longer be a pawn in the other players' games.

...

For the past few days Harry had been noticing a presence in the air.

He was sure it was there before he had noticed it and he would not have if it was not for his attempts at testing his boundaries.  He was feeling along the wards trying to pin point the exact nature of each of them.  He felt Dumbledore's own, the strongest ones there, and a set of weak ones that only monitored that he was sure was the ministries.  As he was prying at the ministries, figuring at least one was focused entirely on his own essence, he felt a twinge almost on the edge of his senses.  

He thought he imagined it at first but then it was there again.

Focusing completely on unobtrusively finding the source he felt great surprise.  

There was something in the rose bushes, in the backyard, farthest from the house.

Something not at all human.

Yet something completely magical.

Though the magic was not a wizards.

In his surprise Harry accidentally unbound one of the ministry wards.  As it unwound it set off a chain reaction through the rest of them.  With a twist of his will he prevented Dumbledore's wards from being affected.

...

A small creature outside in the rose bushes felt the disturbance in the magic around him.  All the years working for his master taught him one thing above anything else, survival.  With a -pop- the short creature was no longer there.

The warning must come some other day.

...

The Masons after putting up with the Dursley's 'hospitality' for the last hour, having to deal with the dim-witted son and the sexist and racist jokes, along with the grimace that spread across their hostesses face in a mockery of a smile.

They had to remind themselves "it was for business," "yes a sacrifice for business."

The Japanese golfer joke was coming to its punch line as Mr Mason realised he had some vacation time coming up.  They might need a week off.

When Petunia asked if anyone wanted some pudding he had decided on two weeks were well deserved.

As Mr Mason was on his last thread purple lightening fell from the sky, causing all in the room to jump, incidentally causing Petunia to drop the pudding, upside down, on poor Dudley's head.

...

When the lightening flashed the first thing the adult Dursley's did was move their eyes to cupboard under the stairs.  

The door being still triple locked and closed set their worries at rest.

Dudley ate his fill of the pudding.

Little to say when Petunia came back with a dish towel there was little left to clean up.

...

Now Mrs Mason was not stupid by any means, nor was she dense.  She may seem as a little shrewd but she was a genius when it came to business and finance.  In fact it was her that built up this company with the concepts she gained from the days that her husband was a builder (though he acted as the visible CEO).  She realised early on that it was a masculine industry, and to be respected she could not appear to be the one in charge. 

Mr Mason was her perfect counterpart.  He was street wise and knew how to deal with these blue collared chauvinistic pigs.  Even though he had shared nothing but their workplace he knew where to laugh and when to wink and what innuendoes to smile at.  

After Chris shared some of his views at a pub, half drunk after a hard days work, being a perfect gentleman, it became clear they were a match made in heaven.

Three years in a working relationship they realised that they were friends.  When their company's shares were released in the stock exchange they had dinner out where he proposed to Jules.  Almost ten years and still going hot never a day of regret. Sadness yes but never regrets.

...

While the pudding was falling the boy who lived was on the receiving end of the results of his actions.  

...

Though the wards were comparatively weak compared to Dumbledore's they were still put up by the Ministry of Magics Magical Law Enforcement's Ward Teams.  

Specialists are usually called in to put up Ancient Wards, but the modern ones used everyday are put up specifically by teams of witches and wizards, numbering anywhere between thirty and sixty members.  They take anywhere between several hours to the upper part of a month to do the work.  If in muggle neighbourhoods they use a wide array of disguises illusions and potions to hide their presence, normally as a public works team.

Harry Potter's wards took three months with two, hundred man teams working around the clock (most of the extras needed volunteered for the job).  They were forced to use a wide array of notice-me-not spells just to keep the numbers under wraps.  The only reason that Harry was not under constant attention is that the spells used only need three or four wizards to be on location to direct them as they should, the rest were only needed within twenty kilometres of the final resting place, the magics being constantly invisible.  

The problem with most modern wards is the sheer brute force required to get them initialized, the power in them is as strong as the day they were cast as the day they fade away.  The one used on the boy should have lasted at least eight more years.

Over the past five years, the budget cuts have forced the ward monitoring from being constant.  In fact the only one anywhere near constant would be Improper Uses of Magic, that being only when the wards pick something up.  

Amazingly the only time that the wards would be checked for functionality is on the annual audit, which coincidentally was that very morning.  The ministry would not find its error for at least another year.

Another accepted fact by the ministry and the wizarding world as whole, to take down wards before expiry is suicidal.  Only very specialised teams from within the wards and complete access to all the information about them would ever attempt it, and that would only be as a last resort after a dozen protection and grounding spells were cast.

Harry Potter just took down wards of over four hundred thousand working magic hours by himself with no protection by himself.  Protection equal to that of Diagon Alley including Gringrotts (wizarding equivalent not goblin magic) at the height of you-know-who's reign.  To say the magical backlash was astronomical is an understatement.  All the energy goes to the who ever is dismantling them, usually to be redirected elsewhere.

...

If anyone witnessed the wards coming down first hand they would have seen dozens of bolts of lightening striking the ground in an array of different colours, overall effect the purple lightening flash every one saw, though none directly.  The only evidence a few light burn marks that could easily be dismissed by Dudley Dursley's fire works.

...

An old lady around the corner saw the lightening, when she checked Dumbledore's wards to find no problems at all her worry diminished.  Her charges location was currently in bed having moved from studying.  She dismissed it as a freak occurrence of nature.

...

Harry felt the power coursing through his body, not having any direction or focus continuing to build up over a period of several seconds until it burst through his skin, his mouth opening in a silent scream, before blacking out.

...

Mrs Mason certainly was not old, nor was she going senile, but she swore she heard a moan coming from the door near the stairs.  By the way the Dursley's acted only caused her suspicions to increase.  Before she knew it Vernon Dursley was pumping her husbands hand and showing them to the door saying that they would work the business details out at another time.

At that time Jules was to relieved to get away from those awful people to put up much of a fight.  She pulled on her business jacket as tight as possible as she fished in her purse for the car keys.  

Mr Mason got in the Mercedes right after her and pulled the map from the glove compartment to find the quickest route out of Surrey and away from those people.

...

To say Vernon was angry might be stating the obvious.

Vernon was furious!

The little freak soured the business deal intentionally!

He ruined the pudding and probably was at fault for the lightening!

Vernon decided then and there that he was no longer going to be nice.  Storming to cupboard door he reached his hand to undo the locks and latches only to be shocked!

What nerve!  With an inhuman cry he threw open the door preparing to beat the freakishness out of him.  He threw open the open the door recking the latch only to find the freak lying down!

This was just to much, Vernon grabbed him by the neck and threw him across the room only to hear the freak's arm snap.  

That was it!

His family had enough stress as it is to have to harbour that extra inconvenience, at least with a dog you can put them down!

Coming to a quick decision Vernon pushed reason aside and pulled open the front door only to walk over to pick the freak up to throw him out of his home.  If he is able to do all the freakish behaviour then he should not disturbing the lives of completely normal people.  Deciding once and for all he walked back to the cupboard and pulled out the trunk and broom only to throw it on top of him before slamming the door.

That was when the rain decided to fall.

...

The Masons had watched the entire scene from the point they heard the door slam open.  Jules watched horrified as she saw the child that looked to be around the age of eight or nine be thrown ten feet to the curb.  When she saw the trunk that followed almost hitting him she cried out.  

'What kind of monster can treat a child, any child like that?' Chris whispered to his wife.

'We were sitting on his couch all night...' Mrs Mason responded, as the porch light on number 4 was turned off.  The child stood up and felt his way towards where the trunk landed.  Finally getting there only to sit on top of it to put his face in his arms and start sobbing, carefully cradling his left arm in his right.

* * *

Please review to tell me what you think. The more descriptive the better it helps


	5. Doctors Visits and Wizardry

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I never realised how encouraging good reviews could be. There were a few gaps in the plot of my story which I am now getting around so thanks. Those that reviewed, awsome.

* * *

The hopelessness of the situation came down on him.  Everything hurt and his eyes burned.  There was no one he could go to and no one he could trust, no matter what his friends would turn him over to Dumbledore.  

Just the thought of the extreme betrayal of his mentor, a man that he thought had his best interests in heart, devastated him.  

What hurt more was the fact that one action out of place and Dumbledore could destroy would destroy any life he could possibly hold, muggle and wizarding world alike.

His sobs grew desperate and he did not feel the presence approaching him.

'There there child, everything is going to be all right.'  Harry stiffened and stifled his sobs as he felt the gentle hand against his shoulder.  When the words sunk in he could not help but start crying again. Nothing was going to be all right, never again.  

'Do you know what just happened kid?' Asked a masculine voice question emphasised on the word kid.

'Harry, and not exactly,' Harry attempted to grasp on to the concepts 'I remember blacking out in my cupboard while I was laying in bed, then I felt sharp pain in my arm, I think its broken, next thing I know I have rain falling on my face.' Harry spoke more to himself than his current companions.

'Cupboard near the stairs?' Asked the feminine voice.

'Yes? How did you know?' Harry tried to sense whether or not these people were dangerous.  No magical presence, yet they were alive and human.  His instincts told him to trust them and after he tried to see if there were any outside influences he started to relax.

'I heard you earlier I think, we were having dinner with those people,' the woman stated a hint of disgust creepd in on the word people.

'You are my uncles important clients?'  Harry stated almost in disbelief, what were such kind people doing associating with his uncle?

'Uncle?' The man stated mortified.  To treat family, any family like the way Vernon treated this child would be unheard of by any one in the Mason line.  Even as a single child in a poor neighbourhood he was never treated that way. 

'How on earth did that brute end up caring for a child?' The woman stated with a hint of anger in her voice.  She directed her next question at the boy beside her, 'How long have you been living there?'

'Since my parents died...' And the memories of all that had happened thus far hit Harry hard.  All the years of torment instigated by a man that had tried to get him to trust him. 

'How long ago did that happen?' Asked the man.

'Ten years give or take.' Harry sniffled.

'How old are you?' Asked the woman horrified at what malnourishment was required to rob this child of his years.

'What's the date?  I kind of lose track of the days sometimes...' Harry cut himself off before he continued to ramble.

'July 31st' the man stated clearly.

'Of course,' Harry muttered to him self 'Well then I just turned twelve, today even.  I can officially say that this was one of my better birthdays.'  The entire time Harry was speaking towards the ground he lifted his face up to smile at his companions.  He did not notice the gasp as the people saw his eyes. The pupils were cloudy and his green eyes were unfocused.

...

Mrs Mason was almost as shocked as the boy that sat in front of her.  Out of everything that she had learned in the last five minutes, standing in the rain under her umbrella (always have one sitting in the boot, never know when it is needed), she realised that she had yet to introduce herself 'Harry, I am Jules and this gentleman standing beside me is my husband Chris Mason.  What do you say we take your belongings and put it in the car and we will go someplace to get something to eat?  How does some fish and chips sound?  I saw a shop a few blocks away from here near the park?'

'Really?'  The boys eyes start to glow at the prospects of real food, though neither Mason saw it.

'After that we can get you checked out by a doctor friend of ours.'

...

The old woman, around the corner, did not even notice when her charges location became fuzzy for a quarter hour before it settled once more in bed.  

It would take her two weeks before she became suspicious as to why he remained in bed almost constantly.  And it would not be until September 1st when he should be going to school when she would become apprehensive.  It took a month till she realised that there must be a problem with Dumbledore's wards. Since she had not been contacted by any post, she wrote it off as something that would be dealt with latter.  Harry had to fine where ever he was. 

...

Three hours latter and several phone calls, Harry was sitting in the waiting room of a doctor's office as the doctor got ready to serve him after hours.  Jules had many contacts and took very little effort for the under the table deals required to keep Harry and his condition secret.  An x-ray, some whispering about how he came into this condition and two forms filled out by the Masons, unsigned, latter he was getting his left arm put into a plaster cast.  

Harry heard the doctor mumbling under his breath, but he could not pick out any thing specific.  He felt the man's hand move to his face and holding open his left eye, changing the darkness levels before moving to the right.   

He called to Mrs Mason and they, together found a surgeon that could do the laser surgery to remove the cataracts.  He also wanted a MRI scan done to see if there was any bruising in the brain but that would require quite a few more strings to be pulled to use the MRI facility without question.  Each were scheduled within the next week.

When asked if there was anyone he would prefer to stay with, he became very quiet and shook his head in the negative.

Harry missed the smiles that crossed both the Masons faces.

...

Mrs Mason knew from an early age that she would never be able to carry children.  It was just not possible.  Mr Mason knew this and accepted this before they were ever married.  They had both talked about adoption but had constantly put it off until they were on better footing with fewer hassles with the business.  Well there business grew and diversified but they had yet to come upon the later.  The discussion was next year; it would be different, after the business year.  But something always had come up to put it off yet some more.  It must have been relegated to the realm of fancy years ago.

Then fate stepped in and gave them a chance to make a difference.  Yet not even fate realised exactly how much.

...

Two days after the first doctors appointment Jules and Chris sat down with Harry for afternoon tea, even though he was only a guest he had never felt more at home anywhere else.  Each of his hands were being held by one of the Masons.

'Harry we need to talk about a serious topic,' Jules started out, 'we want to offer you a home, I mean we want to take custody of you.  Your family has not right to treat you the way that you have been,' she had heard some of the worse stories from him yesterday when he broke down in her arms.  The bullying and the aggression, the chores and the psychological abuse, but what hurt her the most was that he had not known love since he was an infant.  'I already have the paper work, all I need is the Dursley's signature,' Harry's eyes grew wide at this and tears started to flow.  Misinterpreting this Jules squeezed Harry's hand and mentioned 'Don't worry, Vernon wants our business, I will force him to sign, that is if you don't mind?'  Harry stood up and walked around the table and gave them both huge hugs, which caused them all to start laughing.  

"This is the way family should be," as soon as Harry thought about it he came to a decision, "No more secrets."

He backed away until he reached his chair.  The look on his face told the Masons that this was a very serious conversation.

'Before you come to any decision you need to learn some thing about me... I don't know how to say this but, I will be blunt, I am a wizard,' to say that the Masons were not prepared for this statement was an understatement.  If he said he was dying or a hermaphrodite this would be in the realm of what they were prepared for.  Even if he was in a cult, though that was a stretch, it might be conceivably understandable.  A wizard though, after Harry kept the serious face the entire time expectantly, almost looking sad, they realised that he was being totally honest, and all it took was that moment to accept that as the truth.   They reached for his hands again and reassuringly squeezed them.

'Explain, what you mean son.' Chris said in a comforting tone.

That was when the Masons had their first discussion about magic, Voldemort, the-boy-who-lived, and Hogwarts, that lasted well until the early hours of the morning, neither ever doubting the authenticity of the fantastic stories.

...

'So you are telling me he forced them to be the way they were?'  Chris was livid, how could a man with so much trust do something so abominable.

Harry started crying but shook his head no, 'It only influenced the choices they made, the way they thought maybe, but their actions are still their own.  If they had not wanted to they would not have done it.  Dudley was never even directed to do anything that was himself.'

'Could he do that to us, and people we know?' Questioned Jules.

Harry turned to them and had a strange glitter in his eye, like he was seeing something that was beyond their sight, 'He won't if I have anything to do about it.  I think I know how to protect the two of you if you would let me,' he pleaded.

'Please, will we feel it?' Chris was honestly curious.

'Maybe it might feel like a slight nudge OK?' When both squeezed his hand he reached out and tried to feel their minds, thinking back to the voice of magic he knew he could have it leave these two people alone to their own free will, letting some of his own magic to flow into it to make it last he pulled back and smiled.

The Masons had felt the nudge and closed their eyes as they felt the warm glow.

Harry did not realise that at that point he did something monumentous, he used pure magic to achieve something good, by doing so he protected his soon to be legal guardians for the rest of their natural lives.

* * *

Review if you want. The more descriptive the better. Flames are just as welcome as long as they are constructive. The Masons are only a part of a sub plot that will solve some problems that I have latter on.


	6. Science and Magic

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update. 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I never realised how encouraging good reviews could be. There were a few gaps in the plot of my story which I am now getting around so thanks. Those that reviewed, awsome.

* * *

Over the next two weeks Harry started to strongly believe that Wizards were quickly losing their advantage over muggles just because of their ignorance.  What he had been told impossible at the beginning of the summer had been fixed over three separate surgeries.  After a week of healing when his sight was tested as better than perfect he was very impressed.  Though he still convinced the Masons to get him some glasses with plain glass as well as some plain brown contacts  It would give him some advantages no one else would know about

With some basic laser treatment all the scars, except his original one (which he insisted must stay), were removed from his face and hands.  

Jules had to fight Harry tooth and nail to even get this far

Harry insisted that they not waste their money on him

Unfortunately when Jules heard this argument she refused to accept it and explained it away by saying they had plenty of money

Next he was afraid that the doctors would ask to many questions

Jules countered this with the fact that the people she called were all friends returning favours.  She then refused to even hear any further arguments.  'Harry, we want to take care of you properly.  Shut your mouth.  I will not allow you to continue, depreciating yourself.  You are worth more than any money we could spend in your life time, shush'

..

Mr Mason's dealing with the Dursleys was on edge of bashing their heads or his head into the table.  At first they refused to even acknowledge their custody of Harry, then they claimed he was a seriously disturbed child.  When they started to try to convince him that he belonged in a criminal institution he was already on his last thread.  Finally after showing them the copies of the unfiled affidavits from him and his wife, he grudgingly signed the papers with his wife, even handing over some legal documents, including a will from his parents and birth certificate

Chris was only to grateful that Jules had got Vernon transferred to the Australian branch of Grunnings.  Hopefully he would never have to deal with those awful people again

..

With two weeks to go till he had to leave for Hogwarts, Harry figured it might be time to go to Diagon Alley to pick up his supplies, though he had yet to receive a school letter.  Over the last three days with sight he had read his school text from before first year, oddly enough the subjects made more sense the second time reading through them.  Potions was particularly fascinating, all the intricacies that he had missed before (probably being the cause of on or two of his potion disasters), now made perfect sense.  The other interesting bit he came across was the tale end of his Beginner's transfiguration book.  It mentioned briefly cross course combination transfiguration studies, such as inanimate to animate which crossed heavily into charms ("probably what McGonagall used for the chess pieces under the trap door"), and animagi transformations which crossed into both potions and charms, though unfortunately Harry's text had no actual information about any of the processes

Harry asked Jules if she could give him a lift.  Jules thinking to get some shopping done herself made sure they got up extra early.  With a bandana to cover both his hair and scar and contacts in along with clothes that both looked good and fit, he was a totally different person

..

Two hour latter at eight o'clock, Mrs Mason stopped in front of the dingy looking pub, when the child had mentioned not getting much chance of a proper modern education she decided she would at the very least get him a set of textbooks and maybe even a set of current encyclopaedias.  She also wanted to get him a laptop but she was worried about how to get it around the magic constrictions at his school.  

Harry did not know the conversion, both Jules and Chris found the idea of a different monetary system fascinating.  Jules decided to cover all bases and give him a sizable amount, fifteen hundred pounds (she may be a genius at business budgets but over the years personal spending always blew any budget Chris set)

Harry refused for the second time before she almost hollered at him shoving the wallet in his pocket, 'Harry you have to learn to stop fighting me on this, I want you to convert this all.  If you can get into your vault, that is fine, if not you can still get your shopping done.  Worse case scenario you have to use the money that your guardians have given you.  Here take this mobile phone and speed dial one to get in touch, I will be waiting here at five o'clock regardless.  That is if you still want to do this alone?'

Harry just nodded but gave Jules a hug anyways. 'Thank you, hope you have a good day.  Try to stick to Chris' budget, please?' He grinned cheekily at her

'Oh you! Get out, have fun, get everything you need.  Maybe even something extra, call and I will be here as soon as I can.  Be careful Harry.' She hugged him tightly before he went got out of the passenger side

..

After he convinced Tom to give him a hand opening the Diagon Alley portal Harry quickly moved down the street to Gringotts.  No one stopped to stare at him and even Tom, as observant as he normally is, thought he just was a muggleborn first year student

Walking up to a goblin at a free counter he asked if it was possible to get into his vault without a copy of his key.  To which the goblin became totally affronted at even the thought.  

Harry a little put off on the creatures attitude asked meekly, 'Is there a way for me to get the key without tracking down who ever has them?' Harry knew exactly who had the key, he just did not want to have to contact the man.  To many trust issues, and the odd questions that would turn up were even less desired.  

The goblin seemed more relaxed at this question and stated clearly that there was a process to achieve that, 'It should only take three business days, Mr Potter'  The goblin, who he had yet to get a name then turned to Harry staring straight at his eyes, 'Which vault do you want the key acquired for?'

'I have more than one vault?' Harry asked almost in complete shock, he remembered the one with the large pile of wizard gold that he was told that his parents left him.  He was rich by wizarding standards even taking the one vault into consideration

The goblin raised one eye brow at him and tapped a piece of parchment on his left hand side, Harry felt the subtle bit of magic, it had a foreign almost musty flavour all things being considered.  'Ah, you have only accessed your trust account.  Mr Potter you have roughly thirty two other vaults and at least one of them are of the highest security.  We have some of your vaults being held in trust till you get your full wizarding license, three of them are currently accessible.  Mr Albus Dumbledore is the holder of your three vault keys that are currently active.  You want to retrieve these three keys?'

Harry nodded, 'Would he realise it immediately?' He asked fearfully

'We can work it so as he will not if that is your request.  In fact the keys should have been in your possession from the moment he met you after receiving your Hogwarts letter last year.  Just put your hand here and we can start the process immediately.'  He held out a rough silver key twice the size of the normal Gringotts keys which turned gold the moment Harry touched it, 'Just ask for Silversmith, that's me, when you come back.  Now any more business to handle?'

To which Harry got his money converted at almost three galeons to the pound.  'You're lucky the exchange rate is so high, a week ago it was one to one.'

..

Harry decided that it was imperative to get the most important thing done first, a replacement wand

He only hoped that is would not take to much longer than last time

..

Olivanders was just as Harry remembered it.  Magic hung in the air, it was not the living of Hogwarts but dormant.  It felt like the entire shop was holding its breath ready to step into action.  As Harry looked around he started letting his curiosity get the best of him.  He looked at all the shelves and realized he could tell the order of the wands, they flowed logically.  Yet all the boxes looked different yet the same and it was hard to tell why he felt they flowed logically.  It just felt right

Ten minutes and no response Harry decided to peak behind the curtain at the back of the shop

It was a work room

On one set of shelves Harry found thousands of crystal rods, each with a neat label etched into it

As he reached for one there was a small cough behind him, 'They are cores, I am sorry I did not hear the bell ring when you entered...' Harry turned around slowly and noticed that Mr. Ollivander stood there with a wand pointed straight at his chest, '...Mr. Potter...' The wand lowered, 'I thought you broke into the shop, I mean that someone had ...never mind.  Problem with your wand?' At this Harry produced the box with his wand remains which Dumbledore had given him

'Merlin! What on Earth happened to it?  ...where is the core?..' And on it went Harry deepening shades of red as the shame hit him

'I used it to block a curse ...it didn't survive.  I was hoping to buy a new one...'

'What curse could destroy such a strong wand?'

Harry mumbled something

'Speak up I couldn't hear you?'

'It was the Killing curse.' Harry said at a level above a whisper

To this the wand maker was speechless ...for a whole second 'One of my wands stopped the unstoppable! Amazing, what happened to the core?'

'It was lost'

...An hour latter

'No won't due, you know I found one for you in the first place it was hard enough.  Now they seem almost frightened of you.'  Understatement of the century as the last one screamed as it shot out of Harry's hand

'I can feel them clashing with my magic, it is weird.  Let me have a go at finding it.  Harry stretched out his hand and the sense over magic increased.  '...to weak ...to warm ...very temperamental, not one of yours ...' As he continued Ollivander's eyes opened wider in amazement

'There only three wands in this shop that are not mine, how is it that you found the only one that was out here?'

'Well each thing a person makes has a bit of their ...personality that goes into it ...yours is unique ...that one is not yours.'  Harry then pulled the offending wand from the shelf. 'In fact I don't know why you would even have this wand ...it's owner can't be human if it feels right ...though I am not sure what species would use it.' 

'I think it would suit some one with veela or north sea mermaid blood, maybe vampiric, your right though this is usually kept out back, ebony and manticore sting, not pleasant for human at all...' Blushing the wand maker put it behind the counter

Twenty minutes latter and still no wand Harry finally stated the obvious, 'None of them will take me...' A thoughtful look crossed Harry's face 'What if I can't use any wand someone made ...none of these are me ...and any I took from anywhere else would also not be me ...I think I need to make my own ...is that possible?' 

For the first time in Ollivanders career he could not find a suitable wand, but the concept that his current customer presented him was intriguing.  'All my wands are built as living creations, they grow with the wizard.  You took one of the most powerful wands I will ever make, admittedly greater even than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's.  The fact that you have grown in strength since last year, you need a wand that matches your strength now.  Your wand would have, even with just the core I might have been able to create an equal.  Yours was the second feather the strongest of phoenix sources.  Yes, now where is it?' As Ollivander was talking they had moved into the back room.  He started to go through a shelf that was tucked in a corner behind a desk, 'Ah ha, here we go "The Sources of Magic: A Guide in the Creation of Magical Implements", now I used this in reference to make my first wands.  It is as much art as it is a science so don't fret if you don't succeed the first time.  You won't find an exact copy of this book anywhere, it has been added to by each generation that has held it.  Just hold on to it until I need it to train an apprentice.'  

Harry felt the age of the book as it passed to his hands, 'Now until you can make your own you will need a loaner, holy 11 inches right?', the man proceeded to pull a base off the shelf  and cut it down to size placing it on a stone slab he grabbed to crystal rods 'fourth and fifth phoenix feathers from a healthy bird, not a strong as any of the first three feathers even combined but they will do in a tight spot, and lets use the previous fragments of your wand,' thus he pulled out the box with the bits recovered 'to keep it in sync with you, at least partially' pulling out his wand 'a little potion for the use of phoenix feathers, extracts for the wood, define the border of the uses' traced a circle using the wand, 'and the incantation... and the wand is complete, it is not the same as your original one but it should do until you can make one for your self_.  _Four Galleons and a Sickle should do it, just don't tell people about you not being able to find a wand here.  When you are ready I am willing to help you making your own.' After paying him Harry was off.

* * *

*Grumbles about the congestion of fanfiction.net*

**The Fierce Deity, God of War** - you may be interested in learning that the working title of this fic was _The Definitions of Magic _. I thought this title might make the story sound like an essay so I changed when I posted the story. Thanks.

**PheonixMan** - blame fanfiction.net for the delay I had this chapter ready four days ago. 

**Star Mage** - here you go.

**rayvern** - Harry may appear to be dark to many wizards, especially considering what is to happen this year (Chamber of Secrets), but he will maintain a core of innocence. Losing friendships will cause him to become slightly bitter (what else would happen to a Gryffindor who no longer believes in the 'leader' of the light?)

**Joe** - lets just say that his life may get a lot worse before it gets better. 

* * *

Review if you want. The more descriptive the better. Flames are just as welcome as long as they are constructive or interesting. 


	7. Books and Budgets

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

Sorry about the delay, I had some rewriting that I needed to do. OotP came out and I got it on first day of release. Though I have read several fanfics that are better, it was still pretty decent. I will use some of the background stuff from it but the actual events may not happen in this story.

A shout out to all my reviewers this chapter was ready a month ago but fanfiction.net has been to erk. Gotta love the new login system as well as my favorite line yesterday 'This catagory no longer exists'. *censored* ...stops ranting about the people that provide this wonderful webspace.

At the moment I am debating how dark to make Harry go as well as dealing with possible future timeline ramifications (example how does the entire Sirius situation change if Harry already has a 'safe' home). All canon characters are in flux at the moment not sure how out of character they will become. I will attempt to justify in the story how they characters personality develope in it.

I don't know how often the updates will come, no promises. 

Oh and one more thing please be creative with threats if you intend to continue reviewing. 

* * *

In a medical lab in London a technician was going through her results and came across one of the scans that had been done the previous week.

"Anonymous Patient 335"   
It had only a postal box listed in the contact information.  
Male  
12 Years of Age  
Probably Anglo-Saxon heritage  
Looking for signs head trauma/brain damage

If the scan was done properly it would mean that everything was active.

Not the normal ten to twelve percent human everything.

The hundred percent, off the scale, no cool areas, hyper active.

This frustrated the technician to hell.

One of her counterparts must have not checked the readings before storing the record.

It went into a garbage folder.

A note went to the postal box stating that the results had shown nothing conclusive and that further testing might be required.

...

Harry quickly realised that his clothing might be just a little out of place in the wizarding world, though he was by far not the only one in muggle clothes, though some others dress might be questionable as ordinary, he felt it might be better to get something a little more normal. Therefore the decision was to go over to Madam Malkin's and get some proper robes.  

Walking into the shop he knew almost immediately that the magic there was purposeful.  Every spell had it reason and would be used soon if not at that very moment.  It was sure of itself.  And it gave him more confidence in just being a part of it.

'Hello dear, just one moment and I will be right with you after I finish with this young man in the back,' a voice called from the rear of the shop.  Harry wandered around looking at the different styles of robe that sat there along with bolts of various materials, ranging from linen to what he swore was chain mail to a material that was a grey material that had a texture very similar to his invisibility cloak. 'It is a material that is made from several magical creatures hairs soaked in an old Druidic potion specifically intended to accept magic spells into the weave.  It will change its nature for every spell cast into it.  Very expensive, and so is the sealing potion to finish it,' spoke a women knowledge-fully from behind the register. 'I use to use it to create robes for all occasions, but there is hardly any demand for them any more,' she continued ringing up a boy who Harry swore was a Ravenclaw, Terry something.

'What do they do?' Harry asked conversationally.

As the boy walked out of the door the woman turned toward Harry, 'Really they are self explanatory.  Quite literally robes for all occasions, in winter they stay warm in summer they stay breathy, in formal occasions they transform to be complementary to you and your surroundings.  The spell work forms depending on if you want to be part of the crowd or to stand out among your peers.  The robes can be just as casual as it is formal; cleaning charms preserving charms adjustments spells ensure they always are clean and fit.  In fact they will transform as you slip into the muggle world into something you find suitable.  Quite an achievement if I do say so myself.'

'So why do you not sell many of them?  I mean it sounds like something everyone could use,' Harry's curtesy had changed to curiosity.

'Well even though I can do the initial cutting and fitting and some of the minor spell work, the majority of it has to be preformed by the witch or wizard themselves, as well as the fact that the druidic potion needs a Master to make within the presence of the materials owner, once made it is locked to the owners blood line.  They tend to be heirloom objects...'

...

Harry decided to order a set of robes from the spell absorbing material, as well as a few sets of casual robes, and a formal emerald green robe with gold trim, and getting fitted for some new Hogwarts robes.

'First year dear?'

'No second,' Harry mentioned casually.

He asked, after receiving the list of spells (including incantations and wand movements), that the robes be clear of spells.  Mentioning he wanted to do the spell craft himself only caused her to raise an eyebrow.

'I have your measurements, I should finish with them by four today.  It will be about a hundred and sixty galleons,'  She had not expected him to be able to afford it as it was and was therefore surprised when he handed over the money straight away.

'Can I grab one of the summer robes though,' Harry wanted to ebb a bit more on  the comfortable side of fashion just to be safe.  Within ten minutes he was back out the door.

...

The air of Flourish and Blotts was decidedly different than that of Ollivanders.  Where the wand shop only contained dormant magic the book shop had magic at all levels of activity.  But the number one expectancy was the feel of knowledge.  Needing to know what books to buy for school the first thing Harry did was walk over to the counter at the rear of the store.  Walking right past the sign for Gilderoy Lockhart's appearance next week.

Waiting for the shop keeper's attention he scanned around the area looking for something interesting.  Looking up he saw a translucent set of books resting on the ceiling fifteen feet above him.  Trying to figure out why they were there Harry did not notice the store keeper move up in front of him.

'How may I help you young man?'  The gentleman asked causing Harry to jump.

'I seem to be missing my supply list for Hogwarts, and I was wondering if you could tell me what books they requested to be ordered for students?' Harry asked timidly.

'What year?' 

'Second please,' the boy responded.

'Easy enough, Standard Book of Spells Grade 2 and Lockhart's set,' he pulled out the mentioned books. 

'Can you hold on to those as I look around for some more books?' Harry wanted to get a few more interesting ones to fill his time with.

...

Half an hour and a massive stack of books later, after climbing up and down the ladders around the shop to find books the covered the subjects that he thought were interesting.  Among them were the Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3 through 9) as well as the Not So Standard set.  A half dozen of them were ministry restricted and to purchase them would require a magical signature from an adult.  Not to mention several potion books, some of which could have been considered dark.  

What surprised the manager the most though was the empty space showing up halfway down the stack.  When he went to grab the book underneath the space his hand hit along an invisible book.  Feeling his excitement rise as he opened the cover to reveal the title, "The Invisible Book of Invisibility".

'Where did you find this book young man, they have been missing since last December?'  He questioned.

The boy in the casual summer robes with a cloth tying back his hair just pointed to a spot above the managers head, 'They are just resting there on the ceiling, I can buy it right?  I thought it looked interesting.'

So relieved about not losing that many books the shop owner had the clerk ring up the purchase and gave them to him at half price.

He did not even bother registering the ministry restricted books.

'40 galleons 7 sickles and 2 knuts please.'

And after charming his bag to be bottomless and weightless the manager walked the child out to the main thorough fair.

...

Jules Mason spent most of the morning going between stores picking up textbooks and various other supplies.  Not exactly sure what level of texts she picked up all the secondary school texts she could find.

'Maybe Harry could find some use for the Biology text.'

For some reason having a preteen to take care of she wanted to get everything that she had ever wanted at that age.  Then also thinking that there were other things he might enjoy she started picking up anything that looked interesting.

It was around noon that she realised that she did not know what sort of things Harry might like.  Jules started to rant at herself for blowing her own carefully organised budget.  

Leaving the Jaguar show room without purchasing anything Mrs Mason decided to track down the encyclopaedia set after she had a quick bite to eat and then getting away from the shopping area.

 ...

The young Hogwarts student had a very fulfilling lunch at the Leaky Cauldron.

Pulling out his newly acquired wand (even though it was missing the usual warmth his original gave him) was able to open the arch back into Diagon Alley.

Harry walked in to the apothecary with intentions to just refill his potions kit.

At least that was what he told himself.

He did ignore the solid gold cauldron.  The silver one was tempting (he wondered what sort of potions it was required for).

After toping up his own supplies he decided to buy the intermediate potions kit... And the advanced one, along with some of the rarer ingredients he read about in his potions book.  Then when he stumbled across the shelves of books he just got a few dozen of them (he had to leave some left on the shelf after all).

Near the back of the shop there was a display with what looked oddly like one of his Uncle Vernon's combination lock briefcases.  It had four dials that apparently held the numbers zero to nine.  It read "Javitch's Portable Potions Pantry" or JP3 as was written on the handle of the case. It claimed to be able to store "any Potions Master's complete stock"  library, equipment,  raw materials and products at any stage of completion combined "Guaranteed to keep them in the upright stationary position no matter how abused the case is while 'locked'. "  Opening it, Harry was astounded to find a pewter cauldron (size 6), that by all rights should have never been able to fit inside it in the first place (Why he was surprised, when he had already spent a year in the wizarding world, he had no clue).  When he inquired about it from the attendant she was at first sceptical of his ability to pay for everything (including a JP3). 

Some haggling and four hundred Galleons latter he was ready to go back to Madam Malkin's to pick up his robes, after storing most his bags in the case (will never weigh more than ten kilos even when completely stocked).

...

All bags charmed to be light weight and unnoticeable Harry walked out of the Alley and into the pub and called Jules, an hour earlier than expected.  His purse on his belt was still quite full of coins even though he spent more in the one day than he had in his life beforehand.

Fifteen minutes later Jules was pulling up and they were both on their way home.

Oddly she became quite red when Harry asked her if she stuck close to her budget.

Her only comment was that she was expecting a few delivery trucks tomorrow.

* * *

A special shout out to **beautifulelf** (userid=333508) for her story **resurrection** (storyid=1314438), excelent piece of work. I can easily write those type of scenes (not in this story) the hard bit is not making it to cliche. Dumbledore is a driven man, I won't share some of my theories because they make excelent plot bunnies and I don't want to give them all away. Your review really touched me and it is the reason that I am trying to get this posted at a quarter to one in the morning.

** the Fierce Deity, God of War ** I agree with some of what you mentioned but I am not going to push it to far. I want to fill in some of the cannon gaps with this story.

I don't want to comment on the rest of the reviews because I enjoy stories that I am not sure exactly what is going to happen next but when looking back the pieces just fit.

**5 August 2003**


	8. Shadows and Inheritance

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

* * *

_It was dark._

_And cold._

_Fear permeated the atmosphere._

_The scent of terror came across the silent wind._

_The creatures of this forest had long realised that in this part of it none could last for long._

_Occasional glimpses light in green and grey shades leaked in from above._

_The trunks of ancient trees surrounded him._

_The moon was just past full._

_He avoided its light even._

_The air was icy and frigid even in the heart of summer._

_He slid along the floor looking for life._

_Only the young or foolish ever came this way._

_The terrain was rocky and unforgiving._

_He was a survivor._

_Though the dark jaws of death always lurked so close, so very close. _

_The heart beat the only remainder of life._

_Yet he would not give up the struggle._

_He felt the pull of life, something was near._

_The form he inhabited was so close to giving way._

_He could feel his heart slow as his mind started to shut down._

_He needed to hold out for the last possible second._

_He would not waste the life of the noble creatures that shared theirs with him._

_Beat... Beat... Beat...   Silence..._

_The body of his host dried out as the last of it's life was given in his escape._

...

Harry awakened in a cold sweat. 

His heart raced as he recalled the oddest dream.  He had no body, yet he crept along the ground.  The few sensations he came across were dark emotions.  Anger, hate, fear, abandonment, longing, hunger, and ...death.  He was sure he now knew what it was to die.  For his heart to stop beating. For the last breath of air to escape his lungs.  With several deep breaths the Gryffindor tried to push the dream to the back of his mind and to focus on more pleasant things.

Harry enjoyed his new home.  The people he was staying with had given him the promise of stability.  A kindness of the likes that he had never experienced before.  He felt that eventually he could feel safe here.  Maybe even loved.

The day after his shopping trip in the wizarding world Jules had roped Chris into staying home to sign for the deliveries.  She had insisted that Harry needed to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe, from underwear to winter coats.  The young wizard had not realised exactly how large Mrs Mason's budget issue was.  Even though Chris alluded to it on numerous occasions, today was the first day that he experienced it first hand.  If asked what happened during his excursion at the muggle shopping centre he could only vaguely remember having a slice of pizza for lunch (though the exact toppings on it were not entirely clear) and that his feet were hurting by the end of the day.

Walking in his bedroom the first thing that he noticed was the new comforter on his bed. Walking closer to it he saw a rampaging gold lion on a field of crimson with matching red and gold pillows.  The rooms original blue curtains on the French doors that lead out to a balcony complimented the red and gold bedding beautifully.  Jules assisted Harry in putting his new clothes away in what he had not realised earlier was a walk in closet.  There were several doors that lead from his room with the closet that was larger than his original bed room being one, a black marble bathroom being the second, the French doors that lead to the balcony overlooking the gardens being three, the second floor hallway being fourth, Harry was unsure of where the fifth door on the south wall lead.  

Now to understand the wizards reasoning of why this door of his bedroom was unexplored you must understand that living with the Dursleys had lead to certain rules of self preservation.  One of which that ran along the asking no questions was to not go anywhere unless it was a direct instruction.  Harry had actually no idea of what his uncles or his cousins rooms looked like for he was never aloud to be in them so as he could not damage anything with any of his mishaps.

Mrs. Mason after putting the last of his new T-shirts in a new dresser indicated Harry to follow her to this door now.  Opening to reveal a stair case that twisted around so as that he could not see the top of, Jules lead her charge up wearing a large smile.  Harry starting to worry of exactly what she was planning followed a little more cautiously.  What he saw at the top forced him to gasp.  In a room three the size of the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts (about half the size of the Great Hall), sporting and electronic equipment spread from one side to another.  The most noticeable being a large oak desk the size of his bed held a state of the art computer as well as a large book case completely full to the right of it.  Windows let tinted light in from all four walls and the ceiling as well as large glass doors to the north and south.  Walking over to the south door Harry peered out onto a court yard.  Jules still following close to him mentioned softly that on the other side of the yard was the library (which he had not yet seen but had held several conversations with the Masons while his eyes healed).  The wizard turned around and looked at the entertainment set and couches set up around it.  Among the sporting equipment Harry witnessed a set of weights, several punching bags, a basket ball hoop with a rack of several balls set up to the right of it, some floor mats as well as several dummies.  There were several cupboards that had locks on them that he was curious about but he did not have a desire to appear nosey.

'Chris's workshop is on the other side,' Jules indicated out the north doorway.  'We want you to use it only when are there to supervise.  The pool is heated so you can use it any time during the year.  We used this room originally as a home gym but each time we would buy something new when we thought we would have enough time our time evaporated.  It is yours now so feel free to use it.  The weights and the fencing equipment need to be respected so don't use them unless someone can help you when you get in trouble,' she then turned and indicated the bookcase and desk.  'This is yours to use as you like.  The books are some standard academic ones for secondary schooling along with some either I or Chris thought you may enjoy.  I really wasn't sure what sort of things you might like so I got a little of everything.  If I missed something feel free to ask.'

Jules finally turned her full attention to the preteen and was concerned about his expression.  His mouth kept on opening and closing though no sound was apparent besides the slight wheezing.  'Hey Harry,' no response.  Trying to get some sort of response she waved a hand in front of his eyes she was starting to get worried, 'Harry are you ok?  Come on speak say something!  If you don't like it I can let you and Chris go shopping latter?  Harry! Can you hear me?'  At which point she tapped him gently on his shoulder.  Still no response other than the wide eyes she tweaked his nose, at which he jumped and turned towards her and gave her a hug around her waist his head muffled in the lower part of her jumper he said something.

Not exactly sure what was going on she rubbed his back softly, 'What was that dear?'

Harry pulled his face off of her jumper, 'Thank you,' and he went back to hugging her.  After that they walked back down stairs to the kitchen where they shared afternoon tea.

...

For everything that the Masons had given him, Harry still missed his friends.  The last that Harry had actually seen Ron was beneath the trap door when he was knocked out by the white queen.  He remembered Hermione hugging him before she walked through the purple flames and his fateful run in with Quirrell.  He vaguely recalled them visiting him in the hospital wing but the exact events other than the varying degrees of pain were muffled.  Regardless he really wanted to meet up with them. 

Even though it had only been a few weeks since the end of school so much had happened making it seem so much longer.

Harry Potter in the mean time developed a thirst for knowledge.  After reading the Magical implements book(some of the theories it proposed were absolutely amazing), he moved on to one of his transfiguration texts (it delivered a fair definition between life like and true life, true life only attempted in the much more advanced transfigurations), then to his Creatures of the Magical World book (which provided some ideas for additional magical sources than those named in the implements book) .  Harry had read a total of eight books from his personal collection (including a rudimentary biology book that Jules had given him two days before). Harry had not surrendered to sleep until the sun started to rise.  This was why when Jules and Chris walked into his room, at nine in the morning, after knocking repeatedly, they found him sleeping on the floor surrounded by piles of books.

...

Chris reached down to gently bring the twelve year old into consciousness.  'Harry, come on bud we need you to wake up, we have some things to discuss with you,' he gently shook the child's shoulder.

'...powdered bicorn horn, professor  ...what?  What happened to Professor Snape?' Harry's eyes grew wide and then narrowed slightly when the adults started to laugh kindly.

'Harry I think you were dreaming.  Let me guess you nodded off while reading one of the potions texts?' Jules asked jovially, to which Harry had the curtesy to blush.  The Masons had heard enough stories about Hogwarts, during his recovery, to understand what Harry was going on about.

'Harry I got the Dursleys to sign the last of the paper work.  We now have full custody of you, but there is something that they gave me that I am not sure you would really want to know,' Mr Mason conversed solemnly.  'I have something in my study that I think you should read, that is if you want to.  It is your parents' last will and testament.'  

Harry appeared confused and he turned to look at his guardians.  'Where did you find it?'

'The bastard kept a copy in his office safe.  From what I understand it is the reason the Dursleys kept you for so long.  It has a contingence in the event of your parents death that who ever is your guardian when you come of wizarding age will receive a tenth of the Potter family assets, that is if you received your Hogwarts letter by the day after your date of birth.  Other wise they would have received the ten percent September the first of your fourteenth year to cover your expenses,' Jules grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. 'Hun we have no desire for any of the property that is rightfully yours.  We have already written and signed papers that make that clear, so don't try to fight us about that issue, clear?'

'Yes mam,' Harry replies nodding his head as the tears started to well up in his eyes. "Something from my parents," was the primary thought among the torrent of emotions playing in his mind. 

Harry had yet to receive anything from his parents.  Not even a single picture, he remembered something about red hair and green eyes but that was it.  He remembered the mirror of Erised but he did not have much faith in it.  He never received any of the gifts that were left for him at the end of the previous year, nor did he realise that it was another thing to blame the headmaster on.

Shakily taking the parchment into his hands Harry read.

Harry read what had been left to their friends and family.

Petunia had been left nothing unless she acknowledged her sibling by the time of her death.

Harry was to be left in the care of his godfather, if the man was not in a fit state to handle Harry Potter at the time of their deaths then it continued on down a list of succession (they brought Harry into a world where survival of any one individual was not guaranteed, which the acknowledged as one of the first things in the will).  Albus Dumbledore was ninth on the list; there was not a single mention of the Dursleys in that section of the document.  The preteen trembled with all the conflicting emotions.  Sadness at the loss of his parents (he was never really given a chance to grieve before then), anger at Dumbledore and Voldemort (he could not decide which one he hated more), betrayal by a mentor that his parents trusted in his guardianship, loss at all the people that came before the headmaster on the list.  

It hurt.

It really hurt.

The emotions built up and it felt like the wall holding them back was just starting to crumble.

Tears started to run down his face as a strangled cry escaped from his mouth. All that heard it could feel their hearts break. 

The Masons both came up to him and pulled him into their arms, providing the little bit of comfort that they could.  And for the first time in his life Harry let someone see his weakness.

...

The next Wednesday Harry made plans to head back to the bank to get the keys from the goblins, but he had no desire to actually go down to his vaults.  To much had already happened to deal with going through vaults that potentially had some of his parents personal affects. 

Silversmith motioned him forward as soon as he caught sight of the young Gryffindor.  He immediately pulled three keys out whispering quietly to each one while taping a brass scale with one of his pointed fingers.  Harry could feel the magic being activated as the key changed shape and size, the smallest roughly the size of his thumb while the largest the size of his shoe.

'We had some trouble with recalling the originals, something blocked their return.  We re- calibrated the locks on your vaults.  We can reset them if you ever come in possession of the originals.  Do you wish to access them on this day sir?'  The banker looked over the rim of his glasses directly at the young man in front of him.

Harry shook his head in the negative, 'No, thank-you Mister Silversmith.  I hope you have a productive day.  Thank you for your efforts,' Harry grabbed the keys and the goblin nodded at him dismissing him.  Harry shot a smile at him before he headed towards the exit.

Walking down the street Harry felt a presence ...a familiar presence ...a presence that he had not felt since the beginning of the summer.

'Dumbledore,' he hissed underneath his breath.

Harry tried to focus on where he was feeling it.  When, all of a sudden everything went dark.  It was like someone slipped a blindfold on his eyes except he could not feel any pressure on his eyes and he knew they were wide open.  The panic started to get to him and Harry shakily searched for a wall or door, something that he could anchor himself on the busy alley.  Right when he reached the point where he might start to hyperventilate he felt the presence.

...then another

...then a dozen

Closing his eyes he felt the magic and life around him.   The wind in the air and the stone beneath his feet.  His mind quickly built a mental image of the street and all that was around him.  The jaded boy, knowing he did not want to run into the old man, quickly turned down a side street.  With his eyes open he could keep the mental image current.  

Unknowing the street that he turned down had a certain reputation he did not notice the hag that caught a glimpse of his eyes.  She cowered further into the shadows as she saw the fire burning in the pupil of his eyes and felt the power that radiated off of him.  Just as she was just about to crawl away in the hope that he did not notice her; the shadows swallowed him up without a trace.

* * *

Ok one of the reviews claimed that they liked the super Harry stories. To be honest that is the last thing I want to write. That is not saying that this will turn out to be one of them but I want to end up with something a little deeper than the standard one.

No insult intended to those that read or write them are intended, but half of them turn out as horible as the other half turn out to be decent.

My story is going to be Order of the Phoenix compliant (sounds like a computer system) but this is a fair warning Dumbledore is going to be put in really bad light. And I am not saying that anything stated is my true oppinion. My various muses just are pushing me in that direction.

You Have Been Warned.

On a lighter note what sex do you think Blaise Zambini is? This might be crucial in the direction this story will eventually go.

Feel free to read review or just make faces at me.


	9. Down the Rabbit Hole

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

How can I explain my situation? 

My muse went on vaction with no prior warning. 

Yesterday at about nine AM it showed up again. 

About 90 percent of it was written in the last twenty four hours. With enough complaints I am willing to redo this chapter

No human is sane at four in the morning, regardless of caffine in the bloodstream. 

Oh! The concepts of dark and light are my own original work, everything else has more influences than any could name in a life time

* * *

Common knowledge perceived Knockturn Alley a necessary evil.  Society did not like to acknowledge the fact that what was needed and what was socially accepted at time did not match up.  So much of wizarding knowledge fell into categories that the governments had declared 'dark.'  Translating basically as anything the ministry could not monitor or undo and thereby control.  In attempts to control these magics, the Ministry of Magic has passed laws that have restricted their use.  Most of the time the only way to tell if dark magic was used would be that some person actually witnessed its use or what remnants were left over.  The negative thing about this though became visible at this stage of the process.  The Minister of Magic was given the choice whether to give charges (and immediate sentencing) or to ignore it thus claiming no retribution.  This is not saying that there is no such thing as Dark magic.  Quite contrary to popular opinion true, Dark wizards, true ones that is, considered all magic (wand, ritual, potion, etc.) that worked on an individuals mind, spirit, soul, or magic to be true Dark magic.  For instance the British Ministry of Magic labelled the Imperius curse as such a 'dark' bit of magic that use on a human being causes instant imprisonment in a dementor controlled establishment for life.  While any true practitioner of the Dark Arts would be able to clearly claim that Impereo on its own is no darker than a cheering charm, in fact in certain circles even claiming it Dark would be a severe insult.

Now this is getting far off topic.

Knockturn Alley was a necessary evil.  Its public face, which just any wizard could walk around a corner and see, was just a seedier version of Diagon Alley.  All the normal shops expected in any wizard shopping area were given slightly darker twists.  This was just a face. In reality what the ministry only knew about was the street level (the continuous raids on the many establishments never resulted in anything more than an easily manageable fee.  In fact most of the entrepreneurs counted these as part of their running costs.)  Knockturn Alley, the length of Diagon itself, could be considered many degrees larger than its lighter counterpart.  It extended several stories bellow the ground.  

Without the ministry's influence the population of known 'dark' creatures grows constantly.  From those that live a charmed/cursed life to those born to feared and unknown kinds including those that have no desire for any direct dealing with human beings, they all shared a relative peace (buyers beware).  For the most part this was a flourishing community.  

Many of the denizens that resided bellow the surface had very strong aversions to sunlight/ moonlight, direct or indirect.  So in its earlier days a very clever system was developed to be able to go directly from street level to the lower levels without any open portals.  Air and water was maintained by an extensive system of charms and enchantments provided by one of the few joint cooperation of goblin, dwarven, human, and dark elves.  Structure was held by a system of supporting constructions and stabilising enchantments.  

It could easily rival Hogwarts as one of the magical wonders of the world.

...

Harry could feel shadows of magic the instant he walked around the corner.  Yes, shadows, that would be the best way to describe it.  The magic was here yet what it was cast on was not.  Momentarily the young boy forgot about his attempted escape from Dumbledore's presence, instead trying to focus more intently on the shades.  With this concentration they became clearer while other signatures around him faded away.  Around him all the signatures were different than what they were a moment before.  It took him a while to realise that the majority of beings around him were not human.  Quickly coming to his senses he tried to figure out where the old bastard was, only to realise that he was gone.  In looking back trying to figure out what happened the wizard blinked his eyes carefully immediately having his world come into focus.  His sense of magic was still there, slightly muted, but still there.  The amazing thing was that he could now see through his own eyes, which he started to rub immediately and opened slowly again.  

The sun and clouds were gone replaced by an odd twilight.  He knew it was hours before sunset but his eyes told him something different.  Lightening flashed across the sky, soundlessly.  The slight breeze was moist yet cool and clean.  Instead of the outrageous displays of wares that were common both in the muggle and wizarding world, the store fronts merely hinted of what they could contain (very reminiscent of Olivander's). Most of the signs were written in a pseudo-English as well as a beautiful script with many more characters than standard.  

The pedestrians never raised their voices above a whisper and avoided contact where it was not necessary.  The atmosphere was wary.  The wizard noticed how every act seemed measured, balanced between caution and intimidation.

Harry knew that he was some where he should not be.  Not a single recognisable wizard.  Those that were close to human displayed different oddities, a skin shade here, slit pupils there, pointed ears, braided beards, horns or antlers coming from foreheads, claws instead of nails, fur and paws, he swore he even saw an individual with black feathered wings coming from their shoulder blades.  The powers from individuals ranged from almost muggle to super nova blazing.  As if to prove that the variety of beings were not enough, accompanying several of the walking people was a menagerie of familiars, colourful birds, sleek serpents, every mammal from the largest to the smallest, even the occasional toad, and at a distance Harry spotted something that could only be a miniature dragon (or the fireball came from the purple skinned owner instead).  For every individual he could see clearly five were concealed in shadows of cloaks, hat, scarves, veils, helmets.  There was a variety of attire from ancient to almost futuristic.  If the talons, claws, and fangs did not declare the danger then the visible arsenal would, from sheathed jewel adorned swords to simple daggers, from throwing stars strapped along a forearm to guns hanging from harnesses.  There was even the occasional wand holstered on thigh, waist, shoulder, or wrist.  On the back of a man who was dressed in shades of brown and green was a long bow with a quiver of arrows. While on a woman with a tail and dressed in black leather and crimson metal armour, were darts and daggers covering almost every inch that could be easily reached. A short sturdy man with a long red beard carried an axe over his shoulder.  While another younger man dressed in grey robes walked with a black horse (with flaming hooves that never seemed to actually touch the ground).  The street twisted and turned so as that the young wizard could not even see either end.  Where another person should have felt worried the green eyed child only felt intense curiosity.  The fact that he was somewhere he had not known that could be potentially very dangerous never crossed his mind.

Looking at the nearest shop, the sign had what the raven haired boy believed to be its name in a language where none of the characters were even recognizable.  As he continued to look at though its meaning became clear, "Conjuring the Word."   OK clear might have been a misnomer; the name even in English still eluded him.  "A bookstore maybe," Harry thought to himself.  Only to walk in and discover artefacts from wall to wall set up on shelves and display cases that appeared to have little to nothing to do with each other.  There were swords with jewelled handles, sets of eyeglasses made from ivory, shields that were made out of blue metal, cloaks made out of grey material, shoes made out of wood, axes of crystal, spoons of diamond, ruby rings, stone bowls, dark obsidian wands, brass flutes, gilded lamps, silver coins, bone tooth picks, copper kettles, just about anything that you might find in a department store that happened to cross the entirety of mans existence and maybe more.  The shop seemed small but there was no way that everything could fit in it.  The green eyed wizard walked up to a jade statue and reached out for the samurai sword it held.

'The blade is razor sharp,' a feminine voice said behind him. 'The activation runes have yet to be set, but everything else is ready in the golem.  It can even be set to personal standards if needed.  You won't find a better guard anywhere.' 

Turning to face the person, Harry found a woman that reminded him oddly of Malfoy.  The same elfin features, grey eyes, sharp cheekbones, blond hair that travelled halfway down her back that appeared so pale that it seemed white.  But where Malfoy could be associated with a sneer or a smirk this woman held a gentle smile.  She then made a comment to satisfy the young mans curiosity, 'each item here has been empowered with runes.  The passive items are fully cast while the more assertive ones need completing sets, ones that direct it what to do and where to go and that like.  The runes location and depth are very important,' she reached towards a stone bowl that sat in a display case. Her hand passed through the glass like it was water, yet when Harry touched it, it felt very solid. 'For instance this here is a pensive, between thirty to forty runes carefully etched by whispered words.  Its purpose is to hold memories.  If this one rune was moved,' she pointed to a symbol that had three curved lines, 'over a millimetre,' she said some words under her breath. The engrossed magic user felt its gentle caress, 'it becomes a dream recorder.  If moved in the opposite direction,' another whisper.  This time the boy caught the subtle bit of magic, 'it changes to hold thoughts and ideas.  If one rune is added,' she grabbed another bowl this one of marble.  Then she whispered a spell with a little more force, 'it links these two together, so as this one,' pointing to the marble one 'copies every memory added to the other. This subtlety is usually missed by wizards.'  She then pushed her hair back behind her ear, revealing how they came to a soft point, 'luckily elves are trained to be more particular.  With four added runes the second changes shape and design,' another spell spoken in a tongue that Harry had not heard before.  The original one melts until it becomes like a plate and gains a reflective quality so as it was now an odd mirror.  'Name's Ariathesia.  How can I address you?' 

'Harry Potter,' the boy felt the gentle caress of magic yet he had no desire to fight it.  Well no desire until the words left his mouth in which he became quite alarmed.  The magic had seemed nothing like the bitter kind used by Dumbledore.

'You have never dealt with Forest Elves before,' she spoke in response to the unasked question.  'That was a taste of our version of "fascination."  I use it with no malice.  Most of the time it is hardly noticed,' she spoke with a grin.

Harry's eyes widened and he turned his head to look in all directions.

'No need to be alarmed,' she responded to his reactions, 'my shop and its customers are given the highest degree of discretion,' she nodded towards the entrance. 'It is charmed to only allow people in with no ill intents, as well as being warded with non disclosure enchantments.  Now Mr. Potter how can I be of assistance, besides warding you from cutting your self from the eversharp blade of my golem?'

Harry was at a loss of words, 'I... Um, the sign?'

'Why good sir your eloquence astounds me.  If I am correct you are talking about the fact that the sign appeared to change while you were watching it?' 

To which the boy nodded.

'That is because it did.  It is charmed to change to the language of the closest person observing in it. A version of the Bablesque charm as it were...'

The blank stare made her grin widen.

'Look it up when you get to school.  You like the type of person who pays attention to the little details.  You know what, let me give you something,' she tapped a blank wall towards the back.  It melted away revealing what appeared to be a workshop crossed with an office and a storage area.  She picked up a scroll from a shelf that appeared to be cluttered with odds and ends.  She walked out and the wall re-materialized.  She held the scroll out to him. 'Study and figure out how to activate it.  If you have any questions don't fret about coming to me.'

With barely five words Harry was out of the rune shop.  Upon his emergence the wizard opened the scroll, only to find five symbols on the top line.  None of which had any meaning to him.  He quietly re-rolled it and shoved it into his robes.  

Like a child in a candy store Harry was wide eyed.  Trying to decide where to go next Harry turned to look up the street not noticing how he was in the centre of pedestrian traffic.  Hearing what sounded like a squawk he turned around only to be ploughed into by an older teen.

...

In Knockturn Alley's Underground appearances were always deceiving.

Rarely was a person what they seemed to be in the world of constant twilight bellow the wizarding streets.  Many species maintained an extensive life span.  Their knowledge understanding and abilities varied from the unskilled to the master craftsmen.  For every desire and need there were pre-existing establishments, from the assassins to the goldsmiths, leatherworker to prostitute.  If it could be bought or sold it could be found in the markets of shades and daggers.

...

The young man, with snow white complexion with dark hair with green highlights, instantly offered his hand to the young wizard who accepted unthinkingly.  The mans cheeks appeared blotchy as he nodded to Harry thanking him.  The thing that caught Harry's attention though was the long incisors that were exposed when the young man grinned as he walked away.  Instead of causing him to worry (as any sane full grown wizard would be) it just sparked his curiosity as to where he found himself.  Being jostled along in the crowd the wizard quickly turned into the nearest establishment.  Looking around inside, he came to the conclusion that it was some sort of bottle shop.  The ceramic bottles had labels such as "H-M32 AB RHD+" or "W-W146 O RHD-".

'We have never been able to use any artificial or magiked kind but that does not mean that they have to use the original stuff.' Harry turned and met the gaze of the young man that had run into him before hand.  He now had a small shopping bag in his possession.  'Supposedly there is a deal where they switch the donor with the crafted kind.  It works all around.  We get what we need and the medical people are none the wiser.  Sorry again about almost running you over.  I think you might be looking in the wrong shop if you want something for yourself, that is if you are not donating?'  The grin the pale man flashed was contagious.  Harry quickly connected the dots and something he read last year for the Defence Against Dark Arts books crossed his memory, vampire.  'Names Damon,' the vampire extended his hand.  Harry had the strange urge that this guy was genuine and accepted it.  

Immediately he felt a presence brush across his mind, almost an instant latter he felt something wrap around his thoughts.  'Sorry, normally I would not have done that without permission, but you needed to be shielded.  Many down here would be tempted to acquire you because of your name alone.  Come with me, you really do not want to stay in this shop for long; I will give you a hand in getting back to the surface.  Fresh stuff could be to enticing for some one that is hungry enough,' and even though he remembered so many stories about this kind, Harry felt that he could trust him.  The Gryffindor, never having said a word, followed Damon out of the shop, the name appearing as Crimson Cross as it disappeared behind the pedestrian traffic.

'I am just on my lunch break and I had some business to take care of so I sort of am running out of time.  Hence the reason I ran you over.  I was so embarrassed so I missed your name at first.  I normally stay out of peoples minds but I had nothing to eat this morning and my control wavers when I am hungry considering I have not even made it to my first century.'  

When they turned into a shop that read "Anima mali Evolesco" Harry's interest peaked when he felt the warmth surround him crossing the threshold.  'Creatures of Power, in butchered Elvish, that is.  We deal with some of the rarer creatures of the greater world.  I think you tripped off one of the portals when you turned on to Knockturn, if your memory is accurate.  That was actually one of the lesser used ones.  The most common ones come from the London Underground or the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron,' seeing Harry's confused look the young vampire grinned.  'You know that there are plenty of other combinations to tap a wall with a wand?  The difference between the one that leads down here and the one above is you need to intend to come here though as well as there being no archway.  You would be surprised how often someone smacks into that wall trying to get here,' Damon walked over to a desk and sat down opening the bottle.  In which he placed a clear straw in it.  Bringing it up to his lips a dark red liquid moved up it.  Damon proceeded to indicate to a chair in front of the desk, 'have a seat and look like your interested in obtaining a dragon or some such thing, my boss would have my head if she found me slacking off,' the again was not needed to be stated.

'Do you actually sell dragons?!'  The wide green eyed child exclaimed.

Harry could hear the smirk in the reply. 'Among many other things.  Basically if you want it we have it and if we don't we can get it,' it was at this point that Harry realised that Damon had yet to once take his lips from his meal.  The vampire only smirked more, 'I was wondering when you would realise you were reading me.  You know you don't smell human?  Although all the signs point to it,' the curious man stated off handily.  'We have well developed senses but I lack most of the knowledge and experience of an Elder, so I might be mistaken.'

'I sensed you brushing my mind, yet there was not even a hint of magic.  Neither when you shielded me?' Harry questioned.

'You actually felt my initial sweep?  But I thought only Ancients could... This just became even more intriguing.  OK why no magic... OK let me try this, have you ever read science fiction?'  

To which Harry responded in the negative. For before this summer he had never read anything outside of school assignments.

The teen aged, for that was when he was turned, with the odd hair colour, looked to be in thought.  'You know you really should read some at some point.  It can give you something to dream about other than broomsticks,' the vampire responded. 'Let's start with the basics.  Your average human uses anywhere between five to fifteen percent of their brain.  It has been speculated that even the most intelligent uses nothing over a fifth of it.  Your average vampire uses some odd eighty percent of theirs.  In the process of turning the entire body, down to the last brain cell rebuilds itself to the new blueprint that is given.  This is why vampires and several other species have thing like empathy, telepathy, and telekinesis.  Reading emotions, reading another's mind, and moving objects with their mind respectively, these "gifts" exist in the laws and definitions given by science.  Though vampires have their own type of magic, based on our blood, we rarely need to use it.  I personally could exist in direct sunlight for ten hours, but even with a good feed, I would take a week of sleeping to recover.  Did I lose you there?'  

There was definitely a smirk there now.

Oddly enough the boy who lived was actually having a good time.

'Here, let's get you some protection,' Damon rose out of his seat and walked to the other side of the room where a door stood.  Following him, Harry noticed that the door was standing about a metre from a wall, freestanding, like one of the doors from a display room.  In front of the door there was a pedestal of about waste height with a brass claw growing out of the middle.

'_Accio Potions Safety Storage One_,' and a little golden marble came off of the rear wall which Harry had believed that some modern artist been given free reign of.  There were thousands of similar spheres, each held with similar wooden talon.  Damon placed the sphere in the brass claw and it sank into the pedestal, leaving behind a smooth marble top.  A second later a silver claw came out holding a blue sphere, which Damon picked up and placed it in his pocket.  He then proceeded to the door and turned the handle. 'We have storage facilities all around the world.  It is amazing how much easier it is when you can leave frozen items in the Antarctic and use the >Sahara> to keep a hatchery warm.  Our main business is in the animal trade.  We have strict policies on who we sell them to and magically binding contracts.  If you need a dragon liver, we won't sell you a dragon but we will get you the liver.  It is amazing how fast one can be grown back with the right potions.  If you need an animal specifically for its slaughter we will deal with them at a slightly higher price and an agreement to make their death as painless and quick as possible.  I will not trade in the pure animals.  Now this is what is lovingly called a Dwarven Cocktail,' Damon handed him a vial from a shelf in the storage room.

Without a second glance Harry downed the thick grey substance.  It burned as it travelled downward and the wizard felt a tingling sensation.  Next Damon grabbed a small bottle and an eyedropper.  'These we call Fey Tears.  You won't be able to see for about thirty second but don't panic.  Now look up, head back ...and there.'  Tears instantly came to his eyes and Harry once again could not see.

When his vision came back Damon handed the boy a handkerchief.

He went to run a hand through his hair only to find it standing on end.  Narrowing his eyes at Damon, Harry growled, 'I hope for both our sakes that that had a purpose other than amusing you.'

'Oops, did I mention the side effects?' Damon grinned.

'Plural?  OK I will be patient tell me what that did, please,' the wizard glared.

'Hey it is your fault that you drank it without asking first...' The vampire became nervous when Harry attempted the patented Snape glare (though he did not realise that it was patented at that point in time), 'they are potions to protect you from the more dangerous creatures...'

'Side effects now please,' Harry could not get the death glare quite right. (Patent pending)

'Um besides the static,' the corner of Damon's mouth was twitching.

The volume of Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, 'if you would.'

'Well your eyes will glow in the dark for the next week,' Damon could not quite meet Harry's eyes.

Glowing eyes, Harry could deal with but he heard the unspoken 'and,' 'please tell me what else I am going to have happen?'

'Uh I did not choose, per say, to get green streaks,' now Harry was sure Damon was repressing laughter.  But what does his hair have to do...

'Please tell me you are joking,' the shocked look that came to Harry's eyes was the last straw he started laughing, only to fall to the floor when Harry upped the glare to death glare level two without realising (this was the one that only came out of Snape unintentionally when the Weasley twins blew up their first cauldron incidentally staining every one and every thing in the lab a bright florescent pink, it took a month for the stains to fade off those-that-were-there's skin. It is worthy to note that the level three one was developed by the same pair as level two.  On a positive note the school was forced to refurbish the entire potions lab.)  

Two minutes later, while Damon was still laughing, he did not see the bucket until it was too late. To which he started spluttering.  Just because he did not need to breath did not stop him from this tiresome habit.  

A drying spell later and exchanged glares (Harry added a smirk to his).  They both walked through the door and returned to the shop.  Damon placed the blue sphere back in the silver claw, only to pick up the golden one when the brass claw emerged.  'It is a precautionary system.  Gold sphere to go to location, blue one to keep it locked.  We have three other true portal points not including the central pathways.  If the portal is unlocked while you are on the other side, it only happened once when I forgot to take the sphere with me, you end up on the pathways.  The issue here is that the greatest distance between two doors is about seventy kilometres.  I called in sick the following day. _Accio_ _Hatchery Four..._'

...

'Headmaster Dumbledore told us that Harry was with a specialist healer.  Apparently he lives in isolation at a secure establishment,' a large red haired woman was speaking to her preteen son carefully explaining the situation.  She could understand what he was worried about.  One of his best friends was caught in an accident at the end of last year, 'he was moved there about a week ago and he is progressing.  The headmaster said if all things go well that Harry might be able to return at the beginning of next year.  Apparently the eyesight was only one of the smaller problems.'  At which point Mrs. Weasley kindly instructed Ronald to go de-gnome the garden.

Ron had been worried about his friend since after the incident with the stone.  Madam Pomfrey only allowed him and Hermione to visit him twice at the end of the year and Harry had seemed hardly coherent.  Since he came home there was hardly a day that went by that he had not thought about Harry Potter.  At the beginning of the summer he had initially felt worried about him.  He finally convinced his mother to write to Professor Dumbledore, two weeks after he got home, inquiring about his condition (because the Gryffindors had been told that any communication with Mr. Potter could undermine his security, Professor McGonagall had made that point quite clear.)   Albus Dumbledore had responded by the following morning stating that he had discussed Harry's condition with his family and they had been very accommodating.  He then mentioned that he was tracking down healers in an attempt to find someone that could handle Harry's unique situation.  This had very much relieved the Weasleys.  The headmaster had even offered to pass on letters and birthday gifts when he visited Harry at home.

Ronald had issues with not seeing his friend for a whole year.  The messages the headmaster passed on from Harry came no where near satisfying.

  He had felt sorry for Harry at first but then he realised that Harry got the better part of the deal.  Distracted slightly by his thoughts a gnome took advantage of it and chomped down on his hand.

'Harry Potter probably did not have to do any chores,' Ron thought to himself. 'He got a year off from school!  That meant that he did not have to deal with Snape or Filch, and best of all he did not have to deal with Malfoy!  Harry was probably milking it for all it is worth!'

The little messages that Dumbledore passed on from Harry were nothing compared to the letters he and his family wrote.  In fact Dumbledore seemed to be reluctant to tell them Harry's responses.  None of them seemed to coincide with the letters that he sent.  Was Potter even reading them?  Was Harry even sending the messages?  Maybe the headmaster only gave the messages to make them feel better? 'Yes! And Potter's real messages were so awful that he felt we could not handle it!  Potter is a git!' 

After all of his thought processes Ron felt proud of himself that he could logically find out the truth.  He was angry with Dumbledore to think he could not handle it.  

Potter was a friend only when Ron was needed.  Now that he thought about it Potter had completely ignored him ever since he defeated McGonagall's chess board.  Then the thought crossed his mind, 'Harry is a Gryffindor, and we are always loyal ...but maybe it was an act?  What if he was the one going after the stone the entire time?'  He was in Gringotts minutes before the robbery, he even admitted it himself and wasn't he the one that ran towards the door in the forbidden corridor? He obviously cared nothing about our safety.  The trap door itself is an other issue all together.  Those traps were designed to keep adults away.  How could he know we could get passed them?  Maybe they weren't supposed to?  And was he not the one that found the dead unicorn? 

In Ronald Weasley's mind the facts added up to greater and greater treacheries.

In the end he came to only one conclusion and this conclusion frightened him a lot more than spiders.

Harry Potter was nothing but a slimy Slytherin.

...

'So you're saying that Albus Dumbledore actually had the Philosopher Stone in his possession? Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher Stone?' In which Harry emphatically nodded.

'He hid it inside the Mirror of Erised.'

'I met Flamel twenty years ago. Read their book before hand, interesting theories they conceived.  It was wrong in several places but closer to the truth than wizards have come since the fall of the first dynasty of Egypt.  My sire was one of the Ancients.  He passed on much knowledge to me.  I lost him to the sun when I was five.  One night he did not return.  I spent hours scrying for him before I scried for his remains.  He should have been able to walk for days in direct sunlight without any trouble.  It took me a week to reach them, having to secure myself up in thick foliage during the days.  Two piles of crystallized ash and a woodsman's axe buried in the terrain between them.  I found the murderer by a river bank not far away, dead.  He had attempted to bandage a wound in his abdomen.  By the looks of it he had been poisoned by his own body, and if that had not killed him the infection might have after the slow blood loss.  Even in grief I did not wish that death on any man,' the vampire was quiet as he continued to examine a dragon egg, turning it with gentle care.

'You know Harry; I have never taken a life that was not either in mercy or a necessity.  Most of my kind have respect for life,' and just like that the emotional moment passed.  'We were talking about Flamel?  It is funny that you tell me that Dumbledore had the stone, to my knowledge only a threat of death would have separated the man and stone.  He used to wear it in a pouch hanging around his neck.  Wonder how the old man got it off him?  I actually had Dark Arts lessons at Durmstrang from Dumbledore in nineteen twenties had class with his nephew, >Devon> I think.  The professor left in my sixth year.  He finally got the go ahead of his study of dragon blood.  He even had the British government pay for his lab even.  Still have no idea why, their net worth rival the Malfoys,' now he was handling a black egg with a scaly surface with a pair of thick dragon hide gloves that came up to his elbows. 'Manticore eggs are almost as deadly as full grown ones always handle with caution, oops!' The egg flew at Harry sneaker reflexes kicked in and he caught it.  It took a moment for his eyes to open wide and the colour to drain from his face.  He looked up to see a grinning vampire, 'Good thing that is a hydra egg, no?'  The man with the odd sense of humour returned the egg to its nesting box.  Harry felt the sudden need to bash his head against the wall because he knew that even though it would feel good bashing Damon's head against the wall would not knock any sense into that thick head of his.

Damon had then moved over to the next station after pulling off the dragon hide gloves.  This one looked more interesting because instead of a half dozen large eggs of the previous two dozen stations, there were thousands of them set on different levels varying in size from the size of raindrops to the size of watermelons.  'All non-magical creatures can be stopped at any time from the time of conception to the time of death.  It saves time and effort to 'lock' them at a point between a month and a day before hatching.  These are the avian collection.  As well as stopping their progression we can speed it up.  Access to the temporal accelerator chamber or the 'Grow up' room that management calls it requires one of the senior goblins to open and close it.  Every cell is fed, muscle sustained, appropriate synthetic environment to allow them to properly developed.  Goblins are very clever beings but understand how to practical. They have no issues in hiring out to other races to create feasible projects.  As long as a race can generate revenue they have no issues.  There is an old goblin saying 'gold is gold no matter how you melt it.'  In fact I think it might be what was written on Gringotts Foundation Stone.'

'It is an interesting approach to equality.  What is that crystal rod?'  Harry pointed to what looked like a long green quartz crystal that Damon was waving in front of the eggs.  It suddenly turned red and Damon noted the column before continuing in moving in the same direction.  'This indicates any growth between now and the last time it was checked.  I mark the columns that have changed then I check the rows.  Technically speaking there should never be any growth, but you are in a warehouse that is filled with more magical creatures than will ever be identified by the ministry no spell here can be guarantied not even Avada.'

'What's Avada?'  The wizard asked honestly.

The first response was for the other teen to drop the rod, 'Harry you have not been told about Avada Kedavra?'

'I think that was the one that Quirrell fired at me.  Green light sound of an approaching wave sound right?'  Harry was starting to get worried that he had said something wrong.

Damon's response was to bend down and pick up the fallen rod muttering something 'twice'?

'OK let me give you a bit of history.  There was a time a millennia ago where dark was not synonymous with evil.  In fact light and dark were nothing more than different types of magic.  In general light magic dealt with the general flash and flair type of magic.  You cast and the results were obvious essentially.  Dark were the magics that are unseen, things that affected the mind, spirit, soul, or magic.  Whose results could only be proved by firing counter charms at the suspect individual.  Over time the definitions became warped, many charms of today in fact, by the original definitions, are truly dark in nature.'

The savoir of the wizarding world's curiosity had been peeked.  He asked the first question that came to his mind, 'like which ones?'

'Cheering charm is dark by nature...' Damon paused hoping Harry could catch on.

'It affects the mind! But what does this have to do with Avada?'

'Sorry I kinda wandered off track.  OK the darkest art possible of ancient times and modern as well probably is the magics that fall into the category of necromancy... Do you know what a necromancer is?'  Damon tested the water that he was falling into that was the capacity of the boys mind.  When all he got was a shake of his head in the negative he continued on, 'Necromancy is technically the art of raising and resting the dead.  Whether to bring them back in their original body or to hold a conversation with a lost loved one.  The best of necromancers had the ability to travel back and forth from the land of the "dead and soon to be born" and the land of the living.  The ritual to do this anchors a person's soul and spirit to their body so as they may return with little trouble and no harm.  The closing line of this ritual is _Avada Kedavra_.  Currently it goes by the name of the Killing Curse, the curse that earned you the name The-boy-who-lived.  Because of its very nature it is unblockable.  Only a true necromancer can cast it on themselves and succeed for you have to sincerely wish the person to leave the living.  How it can be cast on others is if it is out of mercy, or fear.  If what you say is true then you should now be The-boy-who-lived-twice?  Right?  Defeater of You-Know-Who doing You-Know-What at You-Know-Where, quite a mouthful isn't it?'  To which they both chuckled.

During the discussion Damon had figured out which shelf had the reticent egg that rejected the spells.  Pulling out the shelf like a drawer.  Starting at the front he started waving the rod over each of the chicken sized eggs not paying attention to Harry who had noticed an egg with a swirling red and orange metallic tint.

_'Yesss, you aress good massster.  We feelsss yousss,' _

almost in a trance Harry reached out and brushed his fingers across the egg. _'Do yousss likess what you feelsss,' _the egg purred.

_'Yesss,' _>Harry barely whispered almost instantly the egg turned to ash and a three headed baby snake crawled onto the back of his hand only for all three heads to sink their fangs into it.  Though instead of pain there was a welcome.

Damon had yet to notice the new comer continued to move the crystal along the shelf.  Now Damon is not oblivious, he is dedicated.  He may be called a slacker but the goblins have yet to find a more capable worker in the sixty odd years he had been working for them.  In fact Damon had refused several promotions claiming that he was happy where he was.  Harry just happened to be the first person that Damon actually allowed to come with him on his rounds.  Something about the kid had connected with him when they ran into each other.  The hissing sound was ignored simply because with vampiric senses there always was a hissing sound.  

But when Harry's arm all of sudden burst into flame there was no way that he could ignore it.   His eyes travelled to the burnt out egg shell, 'Sweet Mother of Magic!  Someone messed up the catalogue again!  Harry are you all right?'

Harry hissed at his arm.  Believing that he had a burn from the eggs combustion Damon turned Harry to face him only to be met with an annoyed serpent.  An annoyed serpent with three heads ...that happened to be burning ...with wings ...did he just notice the fact that it was burning?  One truth between fact and fiction, vampires do not agree with fires.  Damon did what any sane being would in such a situation he backed away as quick as he could.  In other words Damon was ten metres away before Harry could blink.

_'He isss friend, relax,' _Harry hissed at the little serpent.

This time the hissing was caught by Damon as well as the serpent coiling around Harry's arm.

Any wizard who saw the exact same thing would be frightened.

Please note that Damon ain't a wizard.

'Freaking Awesome!  You're a parselmouth!'  In which Damon returned to the drawer and retrieved the rod for the second time.

'A what?' Harry queried carefully.

'A parselmouth, you speak parseltongue, the language of snakes!' Damon tried to quickly finish his scan before removing the ceramic tray that contained the burnt remains of the shell.  Tapping an edge caused a lid to appear and lock on.

'Harry I hate to break this to you but you are now officially a dark wizard...' Damon grinned as he shook his head.

'Why just because I can talk to snakes?  I am sure lots of wizards can?!'  Harry asked with hopeful tone.

'Actually only three recorded ones in the last century, Amon Marvolo Hecatious, his daughter Sylvia Ambrosia Hecatious and the Dark Lord Voldemort.  All three confessed dark wizards, though the Hecatious line has been traced back to Greece before its fall, they were an upper-class pureblood family and they kept their activities strictly within the law.  They never supported the various dark lords of the times so they were always considered nonentities.  Regardless Grindelwald had taken offence to this.  It was rumoured that he had off'ed the daughter then, shortly before his fall, the father.'  By this time the pair had already walked out to the shop front and back to a new location.

Damon took the ceramic egg carrier and placed in a device that looked like an odd clock with crystals in several bits of its works.  Noticing Harry's curiosity he started the simplest explanation.  'It tells me what your new familiar is.  I know it has to be one of the hybrid projects, but which one I am not sure.  Several of the creature people are not exactly sane in my account.  Who would ever want a fire breathing fish?'  At this point a quill started moving on its own over a piece of parchment.

After reading it Damon looked ready to spit fire and brimstone.

'So how much is he?'  Harry asked with an amused look on his face.  An angry vampire is a very dangerous being, only one worse is an angry hungry vampire.  The growl added yet another warning sign.  Yet Harry knew none of this was directed towards him and therefore there was little to fear.  Instead of answering Damon huffed out of the analysis chamber Harry following him in the hope he could actually catch the explosion when it occurred.

Damon placed the blue sphere in and retrieved the gold sphere.  This time he removed a red sphere from the front counter.  The parchment remained in the young vampire's fist.

This time no claw emerged from the pedestal.

'Damon Sophos to speak with Managing Director of the Gringotts Consortium, Concerning the damn Frankensteins,' the young man whispered dangerously to no one apparent.  Immediately there was a soft chime and the door opened a hair.  The vampire pulled it open the rest of the way and directed Harry to enter first.  

The differences in establishments were obvious.  The office that Harry had entered was simply elegant.  Marble floor to ceiling, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, book shelves lined the walls and a giant maple desk sat in the centre.  Behind the desk was the oldest goblin that the young wizard had ever seen.  'Damon! What a pleasant surprise!  Please tell me what monstrosity our two fold over budget development team has come up with on company time this time round?'

'Oh he was found in our avian frozen stock in hatchery four picked it up when I was looking for broken charms.  I was halfway down the drawer when it hatched and bound itself to Mr. Potter before I even noticed.'  Damon was almost formal in his speech.  The director took a closer look at the young wizard, though oddly enough he did not look at where his scar should be but directly in the boy's eyes.

'You chose your friend well Damon,' the old goblin indicated for Damon to pass the parchment.  The only response was for the director to pass the parchment to Harry who at this point was dying with curiosity. Unfortunately the parchment made little sense to the twelve year old"

Third/Fourth Generation Hybridization

Magical Serpent Runespoor  
Magical Serpent Aitvaras  
Magical Hybrid Golden Phoenix/Rainbow Serpent (Quetzalcoatl)  
Magical Serpent Basilisk  
Magical Hybrid Moke/ Peruvian Vipertooth (SBP 7 - Docile Miniaturization)  
Magical Serpent Salamander

Magical Genetic Graph Primate Demiguise  
Magical Genetic Graph Hybrid Thestral

_Analysis  
_Genetically Stable  
Fertile"

'Someone had to have used the time room,' the director said pointing to a book which Damon retrieved.  'According to this its last authorized usage was last year on a series of Siberian tigers.'

'Then someone has figured out how to get to them without authorization,' Damon stated bluntly.  'It wouldn't take much effort to figure out whom by following the resources.  Once we got the team I can question each member of their activities.  Considering the combination I would say dark elves.  Maybe a Naga thrown in considering its success.'

'Mr. Potter, Gringotts values your families continued investment.  The serpent is yours if you still want it.  Damon I am sure would love to aid you in its care.  Considering it might be quite complicated considering its unique compilation.  If you two can excuse me it is time for me to initialize a surprise internal audit,' and that was how Harry's first meeting with the most influential mortal being on the planet went.

* * *

First question that might be raised in this chapter. Harry is twelve and at this point romantic relationships are not even on drawing board. The Harry, Damon relationship is more of a big brother deal

To those that actually read the garbage at the end of stories, name of familiar? At the moment I am leaning towards Anubis but that is not set in stone. 

The next chapter should cover up to the sorting ceremony

If you have any complaints I have turned your floppy disk drive into a temporary suggestion box...

...yeah the smoke is supposed to be there. Remember the goblet of fire?


	10. Phobos, Barriers, and Crashing Fords

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

Avada Kedavra

I was asked to clarify this. Necromancy is a true art though it has not been a study that many have had a chance to persue. A necromancer had the ability to move between life and death. The ritual to do this is pretty long and complex but to simplify it lets break the ritual in several parts.

The first half prepares the body mind spirit and soul to travel to the realm of the dead without coming to harm. This part is to cast spells that prepare as well as ones that locks it to the land of the living.

The second part of the ritual is what actually directs a wizard(body mind spirit and soul) into death without being killed. Without this the wizard could end up anywhere in that realm without the realisation that they were living or dead. If a wizard does not have their wits about them they quickly can become disoriented. When Avada Kedavra is used within this ritual there will be no remains. No body and no ghost. 

Voldemort in his quest for immortality has completed some of these processes without realizing their full implications. Fortunately or unfortunately he did not ever leave the land of the living but he did not know that it was necromancy that saved him. 

The reason why kills those it is cast upon is that they are not prepared to leave. The body fights strongly against going to the land of the dead and it is at this point that they are torn apart, body left behing in the living as the spirit and soul move to the realm of the dead.

A necromancer can only do the rituals if they fully intend to go to the land of the dead. It is this intent that powers the spell. Avada Kedavra's intent alters slightly when cast on another. The wizard casting it must want the other to die. It may only be used in such a matter with two emotions: pitty (the beleif that the individual is better off dead than alive) or fear (this includes most anger as well fear of what the other could do or would do). 

It is this nature which it becomes unblockable with. It is not an attack so it can not be blocked.

Oh! The concepts of dark and light are my own original work, everything else has more influences than any could name in a life time

* * *

When Jules first met Anubis, Osirus, and Prometheus (the names came after the meeting) she was a little worried.  Together they liked to collectively be called Phobos.  (So what if Phobos is quite literally the god of fear?) The fact of how the three headed snake chose names had intrigued her.  Apparently they formed a bond with her charge when they sensed him before they hatched.  

How Harry came to be there she only had a vague recollection.  When she got to the part that a vampire (yeah really the kind from Dracula) had given Harry a potion that was the cause of the green a purple highlights (though the vampire's were only green) now growing from the once entirely ebony haired child.  Any one else might have been unnerved but Jules thought the glowing eyes she thought looked cool.  Chris actually tested Harry to see if he could read by it.

Back to the flying, flaming, three headed snake that is coiled on one of Harry's pillows.  The tiny fact that Harry could and would have conversations with serpents the Masons wrote off as another perk of being a wizard.  Now Harry had acted as an interpreter between her and Chris and Phobos the afternoon they returned from their trip under the wizarding district.  Apparently, technically speaking, they were neither male or female or rather both since they could produce a fertile egg.  Unlike their largest contributing antecedent, the runespoor, they lay the egg like normal snakes.  Damon, the vampire, had been kind enough to give Harry a crash course on how to care for the composite genetic soup that Phobos had emerged from, as well as introductions to those that were either friendly or at least not that dangerous, Harry was excited that he had a chat (through a one way mirror) to a basilisk (the Fey Tears should protect them but Damon had not wanted to endanger Harry's life), but the dragon on the other hand was to moody at the time of checking the reserve.  The runespoor had to be stunned as the three heads escalated from bickering to attempting to attack each other in an attempt to gain Harry's attention.  Phobos just danced in amusement at their antics. This brought on the discussion of how much more even tempered Phobos was compared to most of its gene pool (the hybrid would have been arrogantly strutting if it could).  How Phobos decided on its names came from a hunting expedition (after their introduction as Harry's familiar) in the evening.

** Flashback **  

Sitting out on one of the lower levels of the garden, the Masons had directed the conversation to the fact that Harry would be missing out of middle and upper school education.  Harry acknowledged the fact there would be a rather large gap in his knowledge without any further education but he did not think it was possible to complete both the wizard and non-magical syllabi without harming one or the other.  As they had reached a compromise that they would keep in touch during the year by owl and Harry would receive distance tuition.  It would be a little more difficult but Harry knew he did not want to really put all of his faith in his future security in the wizarding world.  The JP3 (Portable Potion Pantry) had proved an immense help in that he had no set restriction in the books he could bring (though he was positive that some of them would be confiscated if any of the professors found out he had them in his possession).  Jules had already loaded a ton of books into it, not the figurative one either.  It was good that she had created a decent cataloguing system from the beginning and that the pantry was charmed to never exceed ten kilograms.  One compartment for magical books another for the rest (though Harry still could not figure out how the large libraries were accessible with it being barely the size of a briefcase.  In trials Chris had watched him put his entire arm in and pull out a series of books.  Chris at this point forced the wizard to watch Mary Poppins to better explain how it looked from outside.)

Now back to the next gift that Phobos carried.  The family had just started a discussion on Qudditch. ('Do you think you can use just any broom?'  Chris had asked while Jules looked on horrified at the idea of her husband trying to fly off the roof) when in the distance they witnessed a decent sized fireball rise into the early evening sky.  Quickly walking the paths they stumbled across a clearing that had a reasonable sized circle of burned grass which in the middle of was a certain dazed runespoor hybrid.  Harry started quietly hissing to the poor thing (it was this pitiful sight more than any words that Jules' fear for the creature evaporated).  A minute of careful stroking latter and Harry started rolling on the ground laughing only to have the middle head came to his face and jabbed the wizard forcefully in between his eyes.  Though Harry continued to grin he turned to the Masons to explain, 'They were hunting when they found a hare.  Chasing it, the right one found itself to be close enough to snare it.  Unfortunately instead of venom, to its great surprise, it happens to inject liquid fire.  They were so shocked that when...' there was a hiss from the snakes, which Harry made a quick response to.  'When Prometheus,' Harry quickly levelled a glare at Phobos (when Harry had left Damon's company the denizens of Knockturn's Underground smelt of fear according to them.  They became invisible at Harry's request before he entered the Leaky Cauldron's rear entrance) cremated their catch he "squeaked" and fired the fireball,'  at which point Prometheus, having completely understood what Harry said, fired a fireball that missed his head by centimetres.  The other two heads were shaking (laughing from Harry's point of view) from both Harry's rendition of the story and his near miss with the fireball.  It was at this point that both of the Masons were surprised to hear the afore mentioned head growl, only to then send a stream of fire at the other two.  The smoke cleared revealing two petrified (only figuratively speaking at this point) heads scared half to death.  In a moment they both sent death glares at the first one only to have Prometheus truly petrify.  After several minutes of trial and error they figured out how to release him from the curse (as he took their lower body with him otherwise they both swore they would have kept him like that).  This was also the time when the other two adopted the names of the Egyptian gods.

Later Harry was told that a death glare from all three, wishing death, could succeed.  If it was not their desire the glare caused no harm.  Each could petrify at a glance and they could will it away with nothing more than an exertion of will.

** End Flashback **

Jules continued to watch Harry sleep.  It was just after seven o-clock.  'How many peaceful nights have this young man experienced in his life?' Jules thought to herself.  Harry rolled onto his back and the sound of his deep breathing comforted her.  Not wanting to wake him but knowing he had to catch a taxi to get to the station before eleven (he did not want any one to know about the Masons until he knew who he could trust, and how to protect them, hence the taxi).

Jules carefully sat down on the edge of the child's bed and brushed his hair out of his face before caressing his cheek.  'Harry, you have a long day ahead of you.  Time to open your eyes,' Jules whispered softly.  Harry responded by leaning into the touch and smiling.  'Sweetheart, why don't you go wash up and get dressed and I will make you some waffles,' Jules spoke to Harry in a quiet tone.

His beautiful emerald eyes opened and his entire face lit up with an ear to ear grin.  'Morning Juley,' the young preteen replied with his pet name for her.

'You don't need to rush it should take about twenty minutes for me to cook them,' Mrs Mason replied kissing his forehead, which caused him to adopt a toothy smile as he stretched in his cotton sleeping clothes.

Harry rose from his bed and walked towards his bathroom, grabbing the clothes he had set out last night as he walked past the dresser (a black t-shirt with a grey v-neck sweater over it and a pair of dark forest green cargo pants, something casual but not too casual, nor one of his more expensive outfits).  He then stripped off his shirt and began his morning ritual. Looking into the mirror Harry was met with a happy looking young adult. He knew that he would miss his guardians but the fact that there was someone there to care about just Harry felt really good.  He was a little nervous about what he was about to do.  He had yet to receive a single letter neither from Hogwarts nor from either of his two friends.  He was sure that they had their reasons for not contacting him.  Maybe because he moved the owls could not find him or maybe they had delivered to the Dursleys and they had been vindictive and the hid or destroyed them.  But there was that niggling thought that they had been stopped by the old man.  The smile on his face had vanished and anger flashed in his eyes.  The boy who lived was at the moment trying to calm down, whatever today brings about will happen and he would face it when it comes.  There was no point in dwelling on it.  At this point Osirus had nuzzled behind his ear telling him he should get into the shower.

As a thank you for the home that the Masons had given them, the hybrid had caught some presents for them.  Unknown to the green eyed soon to be speckled boy, Phobos had recently discovered (during a midnight hunt) that they did not even have to be in the same room for them to remove the petrifaction as they proved by leaving a present of several squirrels for Chris and Jules for breakfast.  

The screams were heard while the wizard and his familiar were in the shower (Phobos loves warm water), a wet boy with only a towel raced down the flight of stairs in the hope of reaching them in time... 

The thought never completed for the kitchen door had swung out only to hit him square on.  

Harry went down.

One hand caught his fall, while the other rubbed his now aching forehead...

Several balls of fur sped across him out the French doors to one of the upper patios.

Jules chased after them with a broom barely noticing the wizard sprawled across the floor.

If that was not bad enough Chris came rushing down the stairs a tie halfway knotted.

Please note that Harry had been holding a towel around his waist, "had" being the keyword.

Everything had happened so fast that he had no time to react.

First thing, Harry James Potter was soaking wet.

Second he hurt.  His face and backside both registering a mild ache and was starting to feel cold.

Where was that breeze coming from?

Breeze?

Looking up he discovered the exact reason for this odd sensation.  His towel lay near the kitchen door about a metre away from where he was sitting, he would give his wand arm to cover himself.

If that was not bad enough Jules rushed over to him, apologizing profusely, making sure he was all right.

'Harry dear!  I am so sorry!  Did I hit you hard? Harry?'

The young wizard now officially wished with his whole being that the ground would swallow him up.

Wait what was that?  

A flash of light came from over in Chris' direction.  Chris was hiding something behind his back.  Jules eyes narrowed, 'Christian Xavier Mason!  Here now!'

It was at this point that Harry attempted to cover himself up with his hands.

'Hey I figured that since we don't have any naked baby pictures to embarrass him when he invites friends over, that one from when he is twelve would be just as good!'  Chris defended himself.  If anything were to direct the next course of action Harry would attribute the grin and the glance towards the kitchen door as the catalyst.  He had finally managed to retrieve his towel and maintain some dignity.

The Gryffindor's curiosity had risen as he heard something splatter against the closed kitchen door.  Pushing open the door he entered the war zone as Chris was battling against Jules.  In protective mother mode all bets were with her.  

Of course when Harry was coated from head to toe in powdered sugar it meant war.

...

'Molly. Dear -'

'_No, _Arthur.'

'No one would see.  This little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed - that'd get us up in the air - then we fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser ...'

'I said _no_, Arthur, not in broad daylight.'

The Weasleys had made it to Kings Cross with fifteen minutes to spare.

Percy and Ginny had just pushed the carts through the barrier when Fred (or was it George?) announced he had left his potions book behind in the back seat of the car.  George err Fred then noticed that he had left his hat as well.  Just as the twins were to run back to grab the said missing items that the youngest male remembered he left behind something important ('Scabbers!')  Mrs Weasley instructed them to hurry and quickly return.  She would be on the platform.  

Ron did not even notice his supposed best friend pushing his cart towards the barrier.

...

'OK nothing to panic about,' he thought to himself trying to stay calm.

'Just because they radiate Dumbledore's magic does not mean they will betray you.'

'Yeah and the fact that you could recite word for word every thing any of them ever said to you just by reading the compulsions is nothing right?,' a voice whispered in the back of his head.

'Hey I might not be reading it right.  Maybe a lot of wizards' magical signatures are the same?'

The voice then responded 'Oh and the fact that Ollivander's book clearly stated that no two signatures are alike is total rubbish?'

'Shut up!  This is my head, what I say goes!' Harry shouted back at the voice.

'Hate to tell you, bub but, I am your voice of reason,' the voice retorted.  'Now stop worrying about this now! And get to the train, you have five minutes!'

Harry growled audibly and started pushing his cart towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Instead of passing through he toppled his cart as he hit the quite solid brick wall.  He ignored the odd look that the guard was giving him.

'Am I too late?' The wizard tried to focus his senses on entry way '...wait a second; I think someone has played around with the barrier spells.  The magic seems almost familiar,' the wizard thought to himself.

Harry closed his eyes and let his sense of magic fully take over.  He took a closer look and the feeling of something on the tip of his tongue increased ten fold.  

'It is not wizarding per say, or does it have the alert magic of those from the Underground, 'the thoughts finally sparked, 'The Dursley's!  It is that queer signature I felt before I pulled the wards down!'

Harry quickly directed the entire focus of his magic on tracing the charms trying to locate the ones with the correct intent. The one that allowed passage had a few tricky strands tied into it.  'Damn the only way I can remove it would shatter the charms that I need.  Unless...'

Soon after Harry lifted his trunk into the crimson train.

Two minutes to departure.

...

'Don't worry Ronikens; I am sure he just crawled into Percy's cloak or something.  We promise to help you look for him when we get on the train,' both the twins were holding back their laughter because they noticed earlier this morning that Scabbers was quite comfortable where he was, nesting on top of their little brothers head.

The three Weasleys hurried along towards the barrier.

They may have been cutting it close with just over a minute to spare.  They just had to get on the train; they could find seats while it was moving.  

'What could go wrong?' Gred err maybe Forge thought as he moved to step through the barrier.

*thonk*

Followed by two simultaneous thuds as the remaining Weasley men crashed into the back of the first twin.  After the obligatory cursing (they did not hold their wand while they did it so no need to worry) the three watched as the station clock ticked over to eleven sharp.

'It's gone,' said Ron, sounding stunned. 'The train's left.  What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us?  Have either of you got any Muggle money?'

The dumbfounded look shared between the twins answered Ron better than words could.

Ron pressed his ear to the cold barrier.

'Can't hear a thing,' he said tensely. 'What're we going to do? I don't know how long it'll take Mum and Dad to get back at us.'

Ron was shocked.

In attempt to connect the thoughts he came to a conclusion.  

'If I never took Scabbers with me in the car we would be heading to Hogwarts right now!'

'Hey Gred do you think it is time to implement the plan?'

'As long as you can deal with the Howler Forge,' at which point the twins grabbed Ron under the arms on either side.  

'Put me down!  Where are you taking me?'

'There is nothing to fear ickle Ronnie.  Our transport is already provided for us with the aide of the Invisibility Booster, we even mapped it out at one point.'

'And after all, we are doing Dad a favour by testing it...'  

When Ron continued on with the witless look Fred smack himself in the forehead and without any hesitation continued to slap Ron's forehead too.

'What George is implying is that our wonderful Father has in his possession a flying car,' Fred tried to be as slow and concise as possible.  Ron continued his cross between blank and angry look.  He had no clue and he continued to get angrier the longer he had no clue.  George then threw in the last possible hint before he strangled his dense ignoramus that he not so lovingly called his baby brother 'Above mentioned car just so happens to be parked across the road... Never mind just watch and learn.'

...

'...you believe that we are having Lockhart, the Gilderoy Lockhart as a professor?!' A curly haired boy in neat muggle clothes was speaking to another whose robes may have been a size or two to tight.

Harry at this point was dragging his trunk down the bright red and gold train's corridor.  He had felt the dormant feel of Dumbledore's magic seeping through every millimetre of the transport.

Harry instantly felt Dumbledore's signature reeking from the slimmer boy.  While the stout one carried only his own unique signature (though Harry felt that this was a little on the weak side).

The Gryffindor stayed squeezed up against the wall to allow them to pass.

The now very confused wizard continued dragging his trunk trying to find a compartment that was relatively free of the Headmaster's magic (the every compartment had so far held traces of it though it felt as though it was hardly active.)  He barely nodded at Dean when he waved, "be friendly to the Boy," Dumbledore's whispered suggestions were there, except they were not suggestions.  Focusing on the magic specifically, a cold chill ran down Harry's spine, he analysed what he was seeing.  They were triggered by his own presence and instead of brushing his mind it directed it.  "Not to close but observe..."  If that was not bad enough the muggle born's memory held parts of the charms that covered the Pensieve from the rune shop, like his memories were just as accessible.  He could almost feel the tendril of thought and memory trailing off into the ether.

Harry's thoughts spiralled out of control and he pulled his trunk into the first compartment that was Dumbledore free.

Only to find him self facing one of the people he would normally not like to see.

...

Draco Malfoy was surprised (not pleasantly at all) when his rival rushed into his compartment pulling his trunk in before closing the door.  

Potter had a look of a rabbit caught in wand light.  

When the annoyance locked his eyes on him and the proceeded to bang his head against the wall, several times, the composure that the Malfoy heir had attempted to gather was lost again.

Before he could let out one of his witty responses Potter mumbled, 'excuse me' and walked back into the hallway, shutting the door firmly behind him.

...

'...damn, damn, damn, damn,' was all that was going through Harry Potter's mind.  Wanting to get someplace where he could sit and collect his thoughts, Harry followed his instincts to an empty compartment four doors up.  The now familiar weight of Phobos curled invisibly on his left arm comforted the boy who lived.  Closing the door firmly behind him and then adding two or three locking charms to it as well as repelling and distracting ones for good measure.  Any one who came towards the door would now be reminded that they should be in their seat or would find the ceiling to interesting to ignore.

Harry sat down after he placed his trunk on the opposite seats.  Harry closed his eyes trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

OK first the kid in the muggle clothes was programmed while the other one was not.

Dean Thomas had it while Draco Malfoy did not.

Virtually every other compartment that Harry walked by had the minimum of one who was Dumbledore's puppet?  Minion? What?

To top it off the Weasleys had a hundred times more of the event triggered commands.  In fact Harry was not even sure if there were real people in there.

Maybe it had something to do with muggle clothing?

...

Hermione Granger was nervous about her friend that was supposed to be here.  The fact that one of her friends were not coming this year made her value the other ones presence even more.  At the moment she was sitting in a compartment with Neville Longbottom, who was always kind enough to her.  They were house mates but to be honest she felt that she had nothing to talk about.

Neville on the other hand could feel the tension in the compartment escalating.  In order to break he tried to ask the first question that came to his mind 'Where are Harry and Ron?'

He would latter regret this attempt every time he would board the Hogwarts Express.  He never would recall most of the charms that Hermione had cast at him.

...

Recalling the charms that saturated Dean's mind, Harry's thoughts had centred on the Penseive from the rune shop, which then led to the recollection of the scroll handed to him by the elf.  He pulled it out and grabbed a moderately sized rune book from JP3.

He set to work trying to translate each rune.  Getting out a quill and some ink, Harry wrote the meanings of each rune underneath.

...Life... Light...Magic...Dark...Death...

Wondering what he was supposed to Harry studied the piece of parchment carefully.  When there was nothing on the back side he turned it back over only to find his written answers missing.  In their place stood ten additional runes.

...Birth...See...Blessing...Think...Spirit...Creation...Hear...Curse...Feel...Destruction...

This time he focused on the parchment as his ink rearranged itself to form even more runes.

It was a half an hour latter that the wizard noticed he was no longer using the book as a reference.  The runes directed what the next ones would be and to Harry it just made sense.  At this point the nature of the parchment changed to start directing him how to cast, charge, move, discharge, erase, and to destroy the working runes.  Then it moved on to intrinsic differences between different races use of runes.  How wizards used it to direct charms but dark forest elves actually used it to create the charms themselves.  It continued with describing methods that were lost over the years for better or worse.  He was so absorbed in the parchment that he missed the train stopping and everyone departing.  It took Anubis gentle nipping to bring his attention to the fact that he was the last one on the train.  Exiting his compartment Harry made his way to the lone remaining carriage.  He caught sight of the slightly transparent Thestrals before getting in by himself.  As they passed the edge of the Hogwarts grounds he could feel the ancient wards welcoming him.  He also felt the newer wards of Dumbledore and he thought that he might be sick.  He made it to the castle so that he could get in behind the rest of the school before quietly seating himself at the far end of the Gryffindor table in the hope not to bring attention on to himself.  

...

The Headmaster though had felt the young Potter's presence the instant his wards discovered him.  The fact that the boy appeared perfectly fine and healthy knew he was going have to alter some memories. It would force him to modify some of his plans but it probably is for the best.  Dumbledore at this point started to think through what needed to be adjusted.  Mrs. Granger would have to be first, but he knew that he could do it from where he sat.  None of the Weasleys would be a problem and the Boy's own would be a little difficult but no where near impossible.  

He would send for him tomorrow.

Ah the sorting is about to begin.  Let's see what secrets these first years hold.  The voice of the sorting hat spoke clearly in his mind.  He saw the memories that the hat sorted through in order to decide each student's placement.

He was actually quite disappointed with what he saw.  Some spoiled, others ignored, and one's whose treatment bordered on neglect and even the occasional abused child.  Little matter it would make them easier to control with a kind word or gentle pat.

Virginia Weasley, how interesting.  He tried to figure out how he missed it earlier.  Apparently Tom Riddle left a diary with his memories behind.  This would be a perfect way to finally destroy Slytherin's chamber.  Now how to turn this situation to his advantage?

'Gryffindor!!'

...

Harry saw the connection of the Sorting to the Headmaster.  He noticed how the students slipped it on only to take it off again.  Several of the children being sorted already wore Dumbledore's magic.  These kids would then be sorted into Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.  Yet not one Slytherin.  Looking over at their table Harry found only two students with Dumbledore's magic in the entire house and these were rather weak at best.

When the red headed girl headed towards the table Harry suddenly felt the castles wards shift in alarm.  They attempted to open the windows above the head table but Dumbledore's magic was holding them closed.  This magic was not connected to Dumbledore directly though so he probably could not feel the stretching of them.  Harry did the only thing he could and pointed his wand at them and willed Dumbledore's locking charm away.

At this point two things happened simultaneously.  The castle breathed a sigh of relief; the young wizard felt it caress his mind giving the feeling of thanks, and an old light blue Ford Angelina crashed through the open window and right into the head table.  It shuddered a moment then spat out three red heads and a rat only to leave through the door to the entrance conveniently left open by a gaping Professor Snape only to hear a cry in the Entrance Hall from a shocked Filch.

The following deafening silence was broken by one of the twins turning to the hall.

'Have we missed the sorting?'

* * *

OK just for SlytherinDamian I am going to make this slash. How hard it is going to be to get twelve year old together is part of the chalenge right?

To be honest I like slash but even if I were to make this slash I would not have anything to at least fourth or fifth year. Personally I like the concept of Harry being bi even though there has been no such evidence in the books. (Justin Finch-Fletchley is gay right? I swear I could hear the implied drool in the green house over Lockhart.)

I appologise in advance Hermione has no chance with Harry in this story. His ability to trust her will soon be completely shot. Cho Chang I am thinking of setting up with Justin specifically because he is gay.

Then again getting Damon a boyfriend could be interesting because to me vampires can't procreate sex with any person would be fine. To be honest does anyone think decades of celibacy could be at all possible?

When romances do become part of the story they will never be the only focus. There is nothing I can't stand more than a story that takes twenty chapters to pair off everybody. As well Dumbledore will not be getting any. Just the very idea of him with anyone squeeks me.

If someone gives me a convincing enough argument (that is not derogatory in nature) I may change my mind (heck it changes every other day).

Oh and also you would have to find me a female cannon character that Harry could stand (no Gryffindors or Blaise Zambini). 

Oh and speaking of Blaise and the french thingy all words in french are either feminine or masculine. If they want it to be nutural then they use the femanine form. Does anyone have proof? I have yet to find the supposed interview where JK confirms it.

Till next time!


	11. Forging of Pawns

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

If you like Dumbledore then please stop reading this story now.

Oh and why is everyone obsessed about slash? There was barely one review that had not mentioned a persons view on the topic.

** Post Posting Correction -** I appologize for having to do this but the inconsitancy no mater how minimal always bugs the hell out of me.   
_***gumbles something about substitute english teachers and Star Mage***_   
I am grateful for any input that you people want to give. I just don't have to happy about the mistakes that I make that you catch and even more upset by the mistakes that are missed.

* * *

Professor McGonagall just glared at the three red heads and pointed towards the doors that were being held open by a gapping Snape.  Amazingly even Ron Weasley had survival instincts and left the Great Hall without anything more than a nod.

With a wave of his wand Dumbledore announced to the school, 'Without any further disruptions, let the feast begin!'  Harry scoffed on the inside at Dumbledore's flare of show man ship.  The wand movement did nothing more than tweak several lines of the castles ambient already existing magic, the tables (including the splintered remains of the head table) were switched from somewhere else causing it to appear that the table along with the food was fixed and summoned by a single wave.  Harry unobtrusively ate his portion trying to not be noticed by his fellow students.

This worked an entire thirty seconds.

The whispers took an entire fifteen to reach Hermione.

Harry felt her glare.

He turned to her and watched as she pursed her lips in a fashion that rivalled McGonagall's at that very moment unknown by all involved.

Harry knew that he would have to have explanations.

Explanations that he would not give.

He felt he would feel a little more hurt in not having any friends by his own merit.  He knew she was Dumbledore's the moment he looked at her magic.  So when he thought he should feel hurt he instead felt a little disappointed.  Maybe Dudley did not scare the other children away.  Just maybe he did not have the ability to make real friends.

His already small appetite vanished.

Phobos as if sensing Harry's thoughts gave his arm a gentle squeeze while tasting the air near his ear.  Somehow a bit of the steak and kidney vanished in thin air.  Apparently even though the hybrid had no need to actually eat (they had the ability to live off the ambient magic even to the point of not actually needing to breath) it had enjoyed sampling the various tastes available to them.  When Harry felt Hogwarts brush against his own magic he felt his appetite slowly return.

If he was to survive with out harm he would need to continue to fit in and not to incur the old man's wrath.

...

There is a certain phenomenon where any object, once the level of magic on said object reaches a certain point; it will start to behave in ways beyond its original intended purpose.  It becomes aware, self conscious even.  There is a certain school of thought that believes that this is just an anomaly as a result of the various spells interacting.  They follow along this course of thought and conclude that an enchanted object does not really understand its surroundings and when they misbehave it is only a failure of the caster of the spells.

Unfortunately or fortunately they are wrong.

Once inanimate objects take enough spells, charms, enchantments ...whatever, the magic twists itself to bring itself to life.  It may not eat or sleep but it knows its purpose and will strive to continue its own existence.  

For instance a certain Ford Angelina that is at this point beginning its feral life in the forbidden forest, has (on some instinctive level) realized from the moment it crashed in front a host of witches and wizards that its life as a simple tool must end if it did not want to be stripped of its magic based life.  

This also brings into existence a second part of objects lives.  Every spell that is cast retains a part of the will of the caster.  So if above mentioned vehicle was put together by a kind man with an odd interest in muggle items in his spare time, then it will retain a part this said mans personality.  So even though the life is unique by its own will of magic it still retains the signature of the one or ones that created it.  As well as absorbing personality from the its creator, over time objects gain bits of the personalities of its users and even to the point of absorbing personality from anyone in the vicinity.  This means that the longer that a magical artefact exists the more unique its personality will become.

This is the theoretical side of this.

But then an individual must note the key identifying nature of all magic.

Magic will break all rules ever set for it and outside of it.

It might not be as it is cast but it will eventually.

...

The end of the feast came none too soon.  Dumbledore had returned with a twinkle in his eyes ten minutes after he had left.  The standard announcements, Filches growing list of the banned items.  No magic in corridors, Qudditch, etceteras, and finally the school song...

It would have been enjoyable, except that the magic that was invoked to create the words was a whole lot dearer than most of those singing to it.  Those with already existing bonds to the headmaster had those bonds tightened.  The magic latched on to several additional students.  Hogwarts wards fought this and succeeded with quite a few of the wizards, but Harry knew that a few new bonds were formed.  All of the Slytherin were almost immune to this phenomenon.  The two of them with already existing weak bonds only strengthened marginally.  The Gryffindors on the other hand were affected the most.

'Ah music, a magic greater than what we do here...' Harry wanted to glare at the old man but he restrained himself.  It was too early to reveal his change of opinions.  So instead he quietly stepped out one of the side entrances and walked in the vague direction of the Gryffindor common room.  He was very lucky that night, a passage that only opens at random intervals gave him a short cut that cut his trip in half, the stairway even shifted the moment he set foot on it to direct him straight at the landing near the Fat Lady.  The Fat Lady herself opened before him even though he had not supplied the password.

He wandered up to his dorm and quickly changed.  Closing the curtains around his four poster bed, he was asleep before his head even had a chance to hit his pillow.

...

The next morning Harry woke up and looked out the window noticing how drab the weather was outside.  The clouds moved across the sky in an endless sea of grey.  Hogwarts wards trembled in anticipation as it finally got to be what her creators had intended, a school for the magically gifted children.  Harry closed his eyes, sitting on the window ledge, and allowed his senses to drift as far as possible trying to sense as much of Hogwarts as possible.  The school was so living and its inhabitants were excited about the first day of classes.  It was still early pre-dawn and he had hours until breakfast was supposed to be served.  He walked over and opened his trunk to find a package on top that had not been there before.  Harry reached in and pulled off the note attached to it. "

_Hey Harry,_

_I know that you might need some help getting through the next term of school.  Here are a few helpful potions that should make your time a little easier. _

_Good luck with everything and keep your head down._

_Damon"_

Grinning Harry quickly opened the package to find hundreds of shrunk vials ranging from some healing potions to sleeping potions to Veritaserum and even some odd ones like one to grow wings temporarily or one that claimed to give anyone scaly skin.  Harry just shook his head and placed them in his potions kit along with everything else carefully sorting them.  It was at this point that Phobos made their presence known.

_'Massster the young red headsss up...'_

Harry quickly turned to look at Ron's bed only to find himself to be glared at by the freckled Gryffindor.  

_'Can Isss toassst this onesss?' _Prometheus hissed into Harry's ear while still retaining their invisibility.  Unfortunately the hybrid had picked up a few of Chris' sayings during the short time that they had spent with the Masons.  Even though they could not understand human language on their own part of their bond allowed them to use Harry's senses and understand them as much as Harry does.  This also had the added advantage that Phobos could easily read what the wizard wanted them to do with little or no verbal direction.

Harry grinned as he met Ron's scowl and proceeded to grab his shower supplies before heading towards their bathroom.  Coming out nicely refreshed he found that the youngest Weasley was no where to be found.  Shrugging noncommittally the ebony haired boy quickly changed pulling his school robes on as he attempted once again to find order in the mess better known as his hair.

'_Lossssing battle, give up before it attackss youss,' spouted_ an amused Anubis.

_'Everyone iss a comedian,' _hissed Harry as he glared at where he felt Phobos wrapped around his arm.  Harry made a quiet exit out of his dorm pleasantly surprised in finding the common room empty.

...

Breakfast and Harry again sat at the far end of the table, most of the students giving him a wide berth.  Hermione was already seated towards the other end and had one of her text books out in front of her reading as she picked at her food.  Ron sat down across from her and immediately started talking which he received in return a glare.

Half way along breakfast an owl crashed into a pitcher of pumpkin juice in front of the red head twins.  Rescuing said bird they both paled at the sight of the smoking red envelope.  They grabbed it and ran unfortunately not fast enough.  Harry could easily hear the explosive voice which he vaguely recognised as the Weasley matriarch.  Once the message was finished there was a slight scuffle coming from the other end of the table as a beet red Ron stormed off leaving a flustered Hermione.  Professor McGonagall stopped the red head to give him his timetable before she continued down the table.  

When she reached Harry she gave him a gentle smile. 'We were not sure if you were going to return to us this semester.  I am personally glad that you have returned in such good health all things considered.  The Headmaster would like to meet you after your classes finish this afternoon,' she imparted with a genial smile.  Harry nodded his head to say that he understood and looked down at the timetable that he was just handed.

He quickly headed off towards the greenhouses to attend his double Herbology lessons with the Hufflepuffs.  When he reached them he was greeted by a cheery Professor Sprout.  

'Today class we will be working in Greenhouse Three...'

...

Transfiguration was interesting at least.  They were supposed to be reviewing by turning beetles into buttons but Ron was having trouble.  Apparently the previous night his wand had snapped when he was expelled from the car and now it spread fowl smelling thick smoke every time he attempted to do the class work.  The professor was especially displeased when the red head asked for another beetle.  Harry was glad that he was sitting at the other end of the classroom and had finally managed his work after he saw how Hermione did hers.  The lunch bell rang before Professor McGonagall checked the buttons.

...

Eating a small sandwich that he had pulled from one of the platters in the centre of the table Harry checked his timetable to figure out what class he had next.  After noting that he had several minutes until his Defence Against the Dark Arts class was to start he decided that he should visit the Owlery and check to see if he could find his snowy owl Hedwig.  

...

He made it up to the top of the west tower with no problems.  He saw Hedwig nestled up in the rafters and tried to call her down.  She responded immediately (after she woke up) and flew down to rest on his shoulder opposite the one Phobos was wrapped around.  When Harry went to pet her he felt the traces of Dumbledore's magic surrounding her.  The wizard focused on the magic to find its intent.  His owl must go to the old man with every letter she carries.  Reaching out around him he found that it was a charm found on every owl in the tower.  A little more than angry the green eyed boy reached out and tried to unwind the intricate magic enveloping his bird.

Phobos sensing what was going on tried to warn Harry but they were too late.  The magic had connected with his owl's spirit and soul and words Damon had spoken to him conversationally rose from his memory of the shared day, '...had Dark Arts lessons at Durmstrang from Dumbledore...'  The gleam of life faded from her eyes as Harry attempted to undo his mistake.  By trying to remove Dumbledore's dark magic he had in fact worse than killed his first friend.  

A single tear trickled softly down Harry's cheek unnoticed.

...

Harry went through the motions for the rest of the day.

The annoying self accrediting fool Gilderoy Lockhart did a lot of pomp and show as soon as Harry walked in the door.  He claimed that he would have no problems with mentoring Harry this year.  It was such a high honour for Harry to be able to learn from such a master of defence. (Harry held himself back from cursing the idiot)  In the first two minutes Harry knew that he, a second year, had greater knowledge of Defence Against the Dark Arts.  Sitting at his desk tallying smiles, grins, and winks Harry turned his sense of magic towards his house mates.

Peeling away layers of magic from his fellow Gryffindors (without removing it) the young wizard attempted to identify what exactly was their purpose.  Some of it linked minds to a point elsewhere.  While others altered morals and the way some thought. Most of them were to feel like Dumbledore was always right.  They were to believe that his suggestions were the proper course of action (though they would not always be compelled to follow them).  

Hermione's own were the hardest ones to go through.  There were bits that told her to research, to learn and parts that told her to follow the rules, unless Dumbledore told her mind otherwise.  After that foundation she was told to be his friend very similar to Ron's own.  Apparently they were two controlling mechanisms.  If he was slacking off enough Hermione was to push him to study.  If he was advancing too quickly then Ron would provide distractions in order to move him away from the books.  In other words Dumbledore controlled all aspects of his life and believes he still does.

When Harry filled in random information in an attempt to answer the horrible questions on that Merlin be damned test, he was slightly ticked off with how the idiot wasted his time.  Harry decided to have a little fun and around question thirty two he wondered (writing his thoughts onto the paper) if everyone was to nice to mention the wrinkle bellow Lockhart's left eye.  Question forty eight was answered with how Harry could tell how stressful his career must be noting the grey hairs as evidence.

When a blond git that goes by the name of Lockhart jumped up and ran out of the room halfway through marking the papers the boy tried to contain his laughter. Ten minutes with no sign of their supposed teacher Harry had enough and just stood up and walked out of class without looking back (doubting if Lockhart would even show his face at dinner).  

He decided that he might as well make a start towards finding the headmaster's office.  His mind drifted over the number of friends he truly had and could count it on one hand Damon, Jules, Chris, and Phobos.  All others forced into the situation or dead.  Phobos constant presence had been the only thing anchoring Harry to reality.  His list of people he hated most in the world at that point in time featured Albus Dumbledore right before Voldemort and his Uncle Vernon.  Not knowing exactly where to go he just continued to walk aimlessly through the castle.  He felt Dumbledore's magic fouling the air.  Some of his wards regulated the pre-existing ones.  His magic forced the castle to comply.  Not allowing it to move as it wished nor to allow it to maintain itself and clean the disused parts.  It leashed the castles true power.  Looking out a window that looked over the forest Harry carefully unwound Dumbledore's magic from Hogwarts.   The trees nearest the castle appeared to be greener and to grow straighter.  Paths that were barely visible now stood out to the green eyed wizard's perception.  He continued down the hall and came to a stair case he had not noticed before.  As he walked down the steps he attempted to banish Dumbledore's modifications to the wards.  With each act the wizard felt the school pulse with more life.  Twenty minutes into what he lovingly called house cleaning the castle had led him to a statue of gargoyle which moved aside as Dumbledore tore down a spiral staircase and walked down the hallway in the opposite direction from him.  Harry made his way up the moving stair case and into what appeared to be the old man's office.

At first glance the boy had no idea what the twisting twirling metal apparatuses scattered about the room were.  Each seem tied into the ambient magic, Hogwarts own, or linked to something elsewhere.  Portraits with sleeping occupants hung around the walls around the round room.  

The headmaster's wards seemed to come to a focal point in the middle of the room and Harry may have shattered them all if he did not realise what would happen to all of Dumbledore's energy once it no longer maintained his wards.  Instead the young boy slipped his own magic between the schools and the headmasters creating a slight buffer.  Dumbledore's would be less effective while Hogwarts gained greater freedom.  

It was at this point that Harry heard a single pure note.  On a stand in an alcove a beautiful old bird sat on a perch.  It was way past its prime and its eyes glittering with knowledge of years beyond its haggard appearance.  It raised its head and looked into Harry's eyes only to release a note so pure that it shattered the ice and hatred that had been forming around his heart.  The magic affected him in ways he did not understand.  He felt none of the workings of the magic behind the note nor could he pinpoint exactly what it did for him.  Harry felt out towards the bird with his sense of magic and barely felt the noble beings essence.  Even though Dumbledore still had a connection with it he knew that even he could not corrupt such a spectacular creature.  He was unsure what the bird's relationship with the old man was and did not want to draw his attention through it.

Phobos, sensing Harry's inner turmoil, briefly became visible as Osirus sang a duet with the bird.  '_Masster not to worriesss Fawkessss isss trussst worthy,'_ hissed Prometheus in his ear as the hybrid spread its wings to better inspect the room.  

All of a sudden there was a slight click off to one side of the room.  A cabinet to the young wizard's right hand side silently popped open letting out a silvery white light.  Ever the curious boy Harry made his way over to it and opened the door completely exposing the rune covered stone bowl.  He recognised it almost instantly as a Penseive, like the one from the rune shop.  Leaning over he witnessed a younger Dumbledore knocking on the door of an old Victorian manor.  Without realising it his thumb brushed the silvery fluid's edge forcing him to be pulled into the memory.

...

A much younger Dumbledore with auburn hair and beard stood outside the front gate of a Victorian manor.  He pulled out a wand and pointed to himself muttering under his breath shortening his beard till there was just barely two inches remaining.  Another incantation and his hair grew thin and grey.  Yet another and his eyes went from a startling blue to a plain light brown.  With a flick of his wrist his outfit changed from a set of midnight blue robes to a plain brown suit with a brown tie, a black top hat and a walking stick (which he slipped his wand into a slot in the middle).  

Harry had watched the wizard this entire time not even a metre away from him without the man noticing his presence.  Emboldened yet angered by his lack of response Harry did what any respectable wizard ought to do when meeting Albus Dumbledore, (even in disguise) punched him in the jaw.  At least that is what he meant to do; not fall flat on his behind after losing his balance as his fist passed harmlessly through the man.  Before he could compose himself properly, a beautiful dark haired woman with a gentle smile on her face walked out the gate and down the path away from Dumbledore.  She wore a simple light blue skirt and Harry could feel the happiness and peace radiating from her.  

It was at this point that the green eyed child realised that he was being dragged across the ground following the now ordinary (muggle) looking wizard through the gate that the woman had not shut behind her.  He attempted to stand on several occasions only to realise he had no solid footing.  When the disguised Dumbledore reached the front door he lifted his hand and gave the door three sharp raps the boy was finally able to regain enough footing to stand the man coming to a complete stop.  As Harry dusted himself off a dark haired man that the green eyed wizard held a passing resemblance to opened the door.

'Hello?  How can I help you Mr...?'

'Cryer, Jonathan Cryer.  I am a member of the local church board of trustees.  I have been away for a while on business.  I am looking for Tom Riddle.  Would he be in?' Questioned Dumbledore err... alias Jonathan Cryer.

'I am he... I am just sitting down for morning tea would you care to join me?' Riddle asked.

Dumbledore lifted his top hat and smiled graciously. 'Why I would be delighted,' and the old man followed the younger into a salon with beautiful windows looking out unto the countryside.  Harry quietly followed.

After they were both settled with cups of tea and buttered scones the grey haired man volunteered the direction of the conversation. 'I am upset that I was not able to be in time for your wedding,' he brushed several stray crumbs out of his beared. 'I heard about it from several of the board members.  Quite beautiful I was told.  You two make charming couple really,' the wizard said conversationally.

At this time Harry moved around the room looking at the old photographs and oil paintings.  He found to his disappointment that he was only able to travel to the entrance and windows before the force that dragged him along the ground would stop him.  His attempt to examine the phonograph failed also as he was not able to actually touch it.  When he finally turned back to the conversation he realised he missed a part of it. 

The air started to charge with Dumbledore's magic yet neither man acted like they noticed it. 'I am regretful but it is my sad duty to inform you that your wife, Sylvia Hecatious, is a witch,' "evil ...devil worshiper ...seductress ...serpent tongue" the magic whispered as Dumbledore solemnly spoke.

'How dare you?!' Riddle responded furiously.

'I witnessed her myself practicing her dark arts,' Dumbledore spoke gravely.  'If you won't take my words for it then take her word...'  The wizard pulled out a crystal vial sealed with wax. There were runes etched into it but not ones of any power.  Harry was able to read it from his rudimentary studies, "Gia's Bane."  'I have here holy water blessed by Christ himself,' "test ...just one drop ...then you can clear all doubt," at this point the old man hands the vial to the younger man.  'If she consumes a single drop of this her mouth will not be able to utter a falsehood until sunset.  If I am wrong then no harm done.  Take my warning or leave it.  I am just doing my Christian duty,' with that statement Dumbledore stood up.  

The silver fog swirls around Harry and the light darkens.  The young wizard closes his eyes to fight the vertigo.  His eyes open to find himself no longer in Tom Riddle's salon.  He is surrounded by books.  Looking around he realises that he is in a back corner of the Hogwarts Library near the restricted section.  The future headmaster is standing silently looking down the isle between book cases as if he is waiting for something.  A sniffle is heard in the distance.  Dumbledore closes his eyes and says something under his breath and vanishes in thin air.  An emerald green book with silver stitching he had been holding is floating in mid air.  Harry heard the invisible wizard catch his breath as a quiet sob is heard at the end of the isle.  A boy with an ugly swollen black eye is walking down the isle; his shoulders hunched trying to make him as small as possible.  Harry recognised the posture as had held it often in his pre- Hogwarts days. He would try to make himself invisible after a confrontation with Dudley and his friends.  He would try not to be noticed on his way to the safety of his dark cupboard to lick his wounds, hoping his aunt would give him a reprieve for a few hours.  The young ebony haired boy, maybe a first or second year, finally sat down at a table not far away, unknowingly his back to the older wizard.  The young wizard could have been Harry's twin well maybe not identical but a sibling never the less.  He wanted to comfort him but he knew he could not affect any of what had once happened.  Halfway through a silent sob Dumbledore dropped the green book near the restricted section.  The boy jumped and spun around to see who ever had made the noise.  Almost missing the book, but when the cover mysteriously opened the boys' eyes locked on it.

Curious (as Harry was) the ebony haired boy made his way over to it looking around to see if anyone noticed the fallen book.  Assured that he was alone, the boy walked back to his seat.  He dried his face with the sleeve of his robes during the process.  He opened the green book and on the inside cover was silver Slytherin crest.  Harry read the title page, over the boys shoulder, and gasped in shock as written across it in fine handwriting was the name Salazar Slytherin.  Next thing Harry hears is some one walking around the end of the shelves at a calm steady pace.

'Mr. Riddle, I am sorry but curfew is in twenty minutes and I have to send you out.  If you hurry you may make it to your dormitory before it,' a young woman suggests showing more care in her eyes than in her almost clinical tone.

'Thank-you Madam Pince.  I am sorry I don't wanna be any trouble,' said the boy having slipped the book into his robes before she had rounded the corner.  He kept his back to her as he stood up not wanting to show his red eyes proof of his crying.

'Oh Tom, you are never any trouble,' she empathised with the boy. 'Now run along now before Dumbledore or Filch catch you out after curfew.'

Again the mists of memory billow around the Potter heir and the library faded to be replaced by a girls' bathroom? 

Harry watched as a girl walked up to the entrance and grumbled at the out of order sign.  No one else was around but no matter how hard he tried he could not leave the second floor corridor.  The force pushed him through the doorway it opening and closing as he passed.  At first Harry did not notice anything unusual but then he heard a grinding noise to turn around and find a sink shift into the wall.  A slightly out of breath older Tom Riddle climbed out of the hole created by the missing sink.  He proceeded to leave the bathroom checking the hallway both directions before walking out.  Once the door was closed Dumbledore appeared pointing his wand at the entrance and warding the door before examining the space.  He looked as if he was going to jump in it when Harry heard a single note sound before something pulled him up and out of the memory.  Immediately Harry felt the pressure of an invisible Phobos wrap around his upper right arm.

_'Massster Old Man isss comingsss,' _hissed the hybrid in his ear.  Harry needed no further warning to close the cabinet door.  A Penseive he imagined was one of the things that would be considered very personal.  It would not be a good idea to be caught in another person's without permission.

The Headmaster decided that this would be the time to appear.

...

Albus Dumbledore was no one's fool.  No one got in or out of his office without his knowledge.  If a person passes the gargoyle either way it was noted by his wards.  He even had the ability to listen to people as they attempted to guess his password.  He actually enjoyed some of his staff member's attempts at guessing the non existent password (the record was held by Severus at three hundred and twelve before the man threatened to hex the 'infernal paper weight' to oblivion). So he was a little surprised that he had not noticed the breach in the wards.  It took merely a glance to tell that the boy in front of him had not had a chance to do anything that required his memories altered.  As they both drank their tea he browsed through the young Potter's memories of the summer.  "Chores ...cupboard.  Burns ...cupboard.  Broken arm ...cupboard. He escaped, when he noticed his sight beginning to return, two days before the train and used public transport to get to Diagon Alley and got his school supplies,"  how interesting.  The boy was glad to be back "home."  Not to far off his needed development.  Dumbledore smiled on the fact that he did not need to start over in the forging of a pawn.  He knew his past mistakes and was glad that his current "project," one he feared might have been lost to in fact be in perfect condition.

The boy was so grateful for being allowed to stay that Dumbledore decided that the Dursleys would not need to be encouraged any further.  The wards could be dealt with at a different date.

...

The ebony haired green eyed child honestly felt disgusted.  That was the only way to describe it.  The invasion of privacy of a Penseive was a whole lot less than someone trying to pick through the memories while they were still in his head.  He panicked at first when the Headmaster's magic tried to probe his mind but then he realised he could feed it what he wanted.  He changed the memories as he handed them over to the magic altering his true feeling even.  The magic honestly made him sick though.  He felt violated for himself and anyone who crossed the bastard's path.  The man was joyous over his broken arm, gleeful over the burns and smug about having to use the last of last year's money in order to pay for his school things.  Harry only was slightly satisfied in the fact that he delivered the falsehoods with ease.

He still could not get out of the man's office fast enough.

...

When Harry made it back to the Gryffindor common room he found Hermione and Ron fighting.  Hermione was concerned with what had happened to their defence professor while, Ron tried to convince her that missing half a class at the end of the day was not that big of a deal.  She countered with a statement of every class affected their future.  He then responded that it was only the first day of term.  It was at this point that Harry had finally edged around the room unnoticed to the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

His mind still grasping the memories he had witnessed decided that he would research what Gia's Bane was exactly.  In the first two books Harry only found mention of Gia's Blessing which improved over all health when consumed.  It was a seldom sought potion for there are others that improve individual aspects more readily.  He skimmed through a third book and almost missed its mention under a different potion.  In the development section under Veritaserum it mentioned a predecessor that was named Veratis that also went by the name Gia's Bane.  Veratis was widely used until some undesirable side affects surfaced that gave it its name.  It continued on about what was altered and the differences between them were except it did not mention what the undesired side affect was.  He finally found Veratis complete description in the fourth book he skimmed through.  The length of its affect was limited to sunset.  A single drop would force you to unknowingly speak only the truth.  In men it was found to cause limited impotence while woman would only have a problem if they were with child during consumption.  In birth it caused excessive bleeding proving fatal when not dealt with immediately.  Which was all well and good but it did not exactly explain what Dumbledore's intentions.  While Harry made his way to the Great Hall for dinner he came to the conclusion that he was going to have to explore the old man's office much more in depth.  He needed to know what cards were in the hand of the conniving twit.

...

'I will not speak to him,' thought Hermione Granger as she glared fiercely at a certain red head.  She was upset with the fact that Ron called a certain professor an idiot.  She knew differently.  She bet he had yet read a single page of even one of Gilderoy's books let alone the whole set.  So his writing was a little flowery and it contained many unnecessary details but that allowed you to understand him as a man not just a reference.  

She could not even bare to sit near him yet she also did not want to hear what the Ravenclaw prefect was caught doing in the prefect compartment on the way to school.  So that meant she had to sit away from Lavender and Parvati. So in other words she sat by herself next to a group of sixth years.

'...is so cute!  Just look at the way his hair is all mussed up,' cooed a brunet.

'Kate!  He is only a second year,' cried a blond haired girl.  

And of course Hermione was not eavesdropping ...they were talking too loud.

'Hey my parents have a four decade age difference four years is hardly anything.  Consider it a long term investment.  I mean look at him! He has looks fame fortune, he is an awesome Quidditch player and there are no in-laws to boot...'

'That is absolutely horrible!  I didn't even think he was your type...'

'Oh come on!  He has that entire dark and handsome thing going and I know he is going to be dangerous when he finishes puberty...'

OK now Hermione was eavesdropping.  Who are they talking about?

'Look here he comes now,' whispered a blond guy obviously part of the same group of friends.  They all turned their heads to watch the door as a certain ebony haired green eyed Gryffindor walked over to an empty seat at the end of the table.  Hermione may have stood up right there to approach him if he did not radiate an aura of solitude.  He would not be responsive right now to her lecture.  She had no wish to be fighting with two friends at the same time.

She wondered if he liked the book she got him for his birthday.

...

Harry did not even notice what he put into his mouth at dinner.  He was introspective at the moment.  

'So mine is not the first life he screwed with.  I would have preferred a mysterious book to being stuck with the Dursleys.  I wander what was in it?' The internal monologue continued.

'_Massster there are people looking at yousss...' _Anubis quietly hissed in his ear at the same time as one of the potatoes on his plate disappeared.  Looking up and around he realised quite a few people turned their heads away except a wide eyed silent boy that sat across from him three seats down.  To be honest it was quite unnerving.

Harry sat through the rest of his meal without making eye contact with anyone else.  When the cherry off of his desert vanished Harry had no desire to finish it.  He rose out of his seat and quickly made his way through the Entrance Hall when he found his path blocked by the small wide eyed mousy-haired boy.  He stood there holding what looked like an ordinary camera.

The boy just stood there opening and closing his mouth transfixed by Harry's irritated glare.  It took a moment for said boy to finally work up the courage. 'I'm - I'm Colin Creevy,' he squeaked before taking a cautious step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too.  D'you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?' he said raising the camera hopefully.

'Excuse me?' Harry asked hoping that the boy was not serious.

'So I can prove that I've met you,' said Colin Creevy as he stood locked in place by Harry's piercing glare. 'I know everything about you. Everyone says that you made You Know Who disappear when he tried to kill you and everything and how you still have a lightening scar on your forehead, and I was told that if I develop the photos in the right potion it will _move_.'  Colin drew the first breath of air since he started speaking.  He continued his verbal rampage before Harry could put in two words, 'I am taking a lot of photos to send home to my dad, he's a milkman and it would be really great if I could take a photo, to prove that I know you,' he turned to a person standing behind Harry and asked sweetly 'maybe you could take a picture of us together and then,' he looked back at Harry 'maybe you could sign it?'

Harry heard a snort behind him. 'And have his head blow up to big to fit in the common room?' A certain red head scoffed from behind him. 'And have his head blow up too big to fit in the common room?'

'You're just jealous,' the first year replied.

'_Jealous_? What do I have to be jealous of?' Ron snorted.

If the situation was not bad enough a certain blond replied to his rhetoric question, ticking off points on his fingers. 'Let's see fame, fortune, power, good looks ...well maybe not'

'Eat slugs, Malfoy,' the red head interrupted him.

'Be careful, Weasley,' sneered Malfoy. 'You don't want to start any trouble or your Mummy'll have to come and take you away from school.'  He put on a shrill voice. '_If you put another toe out of line..._' Harry contained his mirth at the Slytherin's antics.

'Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter,' smirked Malfoy. 'It'd be worth more than his family's whole house.'

Harry could not help himself for he had been exposed to such wit for the last month of holidays between Jules and Chris. 'Do you honestly think there is much market for them?  Sell em for a galleon ay?'  Unfortunately not only did Ron and Malfoy hear this so did several Slytherins that had stopped to watch how this played out.  They burst out laughing and the youngest male Weasley turned beet red right before he threw his fist at Harry's face.

'Mr. Weasley! What is the meaning of this?' Professor McGonagall cried out.  'Detention!  Both of you fighting in the Entrance Hall,' she scolded as she picked Harry up off the floor and started to drag them both to her office to fill out the slips.

'Hey Potter,' came a call from behind them.  Harry turned to find the reason; he caught the coin that was thrown at him. 'Give it to me when ever you can,' the green eyed Gryffindor looked confused and Malfoy decided to give him slack, 'the picture ...signed.'

Harry looked at what it was.

Malfoy had given him a galleon.

* * *

First deal if I really cared about the number of reviews all I would have to do is put slash in the summary. I like my readers at the moment. I hope that I continue to like them in the future. 

Romance is not on Harry's plate at the moment to be completely honest. Though if my reviewers continue to obsess about slash I may have to force it in there someway. 

To Rowlings interview where she said that there was no slash in her story I have to say to anyone who was surprised ...duh. That does not mean that Justin Finch-Fletchy can not be gay just that she would not mention his relationship with anyone in writing. 

Next if you want to voice your oppinion about slash feel free, just validate your points. Anyone though who thinks they can win arguments by saying how 'disgusting gay people' are will lose my respect. As far as I figure ninety percent of slash is written by girls who don't want to leave their favorite guys single. I would not fall into this group ...Sorry. 

If I do write slash it will be my way of striking out against the flamers out there. *insert evil cackle*

If you value your last meals current location DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING LINES if you do and keep said meal some how you may want to seek clinical help

now about relationships, what do you think about a Dudley Filch Vernon love triangle? You get to choose if Ms Norris, Fluffy, or Dobby gets thrown into the mix for extra kinkiness. 

If you have read this far I honestly wonder which of us are more pathetic.


	12. Pictures and Grinning Idiots

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

* * *

_'Can we pleassse frezzze himss?' _Anubis tried to beg in reference to the prick formerly known as Ronald Weasley.  The death glares had gained a frosty edge and Harry had found a balding solution poured into his shampoo (Phobos was the one to smell it and Osirus actually spoke out against the other two's wishes).  Considering that this normally would not be enough to get on the serpents' bad side except the itching hex aimed at Harry had hit the three instead (the little Weasley's first spell to actually work as intended since he snapped his wand, though he never found out it had).  Most of Gryffindor had been distancing themselves from the green eyed wizard since the "Slytherin incident," but oddly enough this did not faze the boy anywhere as much as he thought it would.  He had even taken to waiting to arrive at Professor Snape's class until the last moment so he would have to sit in the middle of the Slytherins.  It was easier to take their hostile glares to the ones of his own house mates.

_'Not yet, but if he continues acting like such an idiot you may have to get in line behind me,'_ Harry thought towards Phobos.  The three had realised on Tuesday evening that they could communicate through directed thoughts.  They then realised that they could bring Harry into the loop while they were wrapped around his arm.  The hybrid had taken to exploring Hogwarts on their own in the evenings while Harry worked on his homework (it took at least three attempts to write the Potions' essay.  He kept wandering off topic "properties of porcupine quills in reference to healing potions," a foot and a half.)

Colin Creevey had some how gotten a hold of Harry's schedule and there was not a session between classes that the camera happy boy had not bumped into Harry.  The only photo Colin had succeeded in taking of Harry thus far had been an interesting one of Harry with his robes and shirt off in school pants walking down a corridor (Harry had tried to run away when Colin had been sitting on his bed when he came out of the bath room) barefoot back to the camera and a rather rude gesture with his left hand over his shoulder.  The next day he had cornered the first year and threatened to hex him the next time he saw his camera.

If Creevey was not bad enough on his own Lockhart had borrowed Harry from Transfiguration class to give him a talk about celebrity status.  He had heard about the green and purple streaked ebony haired wizard's giving away autographed photos.  Harry then replied quite calmly, 'sir I definitely do not give them away.  I sell them at a galleon each?'  That had stupefied the arrogant bleached bimbo.

Phobos themselves had taken to targeting random people during meals for wrongs that only they could see.  They would position themselves near an individual and then eat almost every forkful they could.  Ron had been the target a number of times (Harry may have encouraged that a few times but not all of them) the aggressive growling of his stomach in Potions first thing in the morning was amusing, even if Gryffindor lost points for distracting the rest of the class from delicate lab work.  Ron's destroyed cauldron was just icing on the cake (who could ever guess that a drop liquid fire would set off skeletal strengthening brew?) Particularly when it exploded as said Weasley had thrown some newt eyes at Harry's brew an instant before (he countered it with some gecko tears) Harry knew he was not making any friends of his house mates but he honestly could not push himself enough to truly care.

Tonight though had been interesting.  Harry veered away from the common room (for spending time with Dumbledore's minions had not really appealed to him) and had sheltered himself behind the curtains of his four poster bed.  The young wizard had his charms book out for class tomorrow morning.  He was trying to find particulars of warming and cooling charms and actually noted similarities with burning and freezing ones.  Harry had his glasses off (for even though he kept them on most of the time they could get quite annoying falling down his nose while he was engrossed in a chapter) and had a quill and parchment out taking casting notes.  He had already developed a way to diagram wand motions (do you have any idea of how many ways you can flick swish or thrust)   The wand movement itself had to deal with the weaving of the actual magic but with enough effort he could force the spell to form without them.   The next step was to now try to figure out the differences that the variations of the incantations' affected the magical weave, his magic sight provided for him some key insights into these aspects.  First step was to actually cast the charms, _"Tepidi" _would warm and _"Pyrum" _would scorch both intended for inanimate objects (a chocolate frog had been the unfortunate test dummy, oh the sacrifices made for education) they both were almost identical in the cast.  The warming charm targeted the entire object yet the burning one only targeted one specific point on the surface.  Having and idea Harry focused his thoughts on casting the warming charm yet used _"Pyrum"_ as the incantation.  The magic was recalcitrant but eventually on his third attempt yielded to his will.  This led to the discovery that he could even use _"Cryum" _(the freeze solid charm) to burn (with quite a bit more will).  It came to his "watermelon" experiments to realise that the wording of the spell was only minor in the overall casting, that it was the intent of the caster that truly mattered.  If he used the accepted incantations the spells came effortless.  Yet the less related the incantation is to the intent the more will is required.  In fact when he attempted the summoning charm (without previously having done it with the proper incantation a single time) it took so much effort that the young boy passed out in the process.

...

Harry being the first unconscious of course should have been the first awake.

But three in the morning Friday morning was a bit much.  

In his boredom Harry continued his reference of the potions that Damon had given him.  Knowing a name was one thing but finding their purpose was a whole other issue.  Half of them he could not even find in his rudimentary potions texts.  Most of those that he could find in his school books only discussed legislation behind it or outlined the special conditions required for brewing.  For instance Veritaserum could only be administrated in the presence of a certified Potions Master (there were only a dozen in England) or that only an Auror or an Unspeakable are allowed to consume Polyjuice potions (very restricted substances) or Intangible elixirs can only be produced in controlled atmospheres (including isolation warding) for their tendency to seep deep in the ground and weaken foundations.  Most of those not found in school texts could be found in his additional potions references.  There was a series of them though that were labelled in runic fashion that Harry could not find even mention of them in any of his books.  Titles like "Slow Death," "Living Hell," "Blood of the Living Dead," "Unicorn Bane," "Pandora's Blessing," "Gorgon Sight," and "Cursed Existence" forced Harry to secure them with his own personal wards in one of the JP3's later compartments.  He would have to ask the vampire about them.  Then he came to the series of gold, silver, platinum, copper, and titanium flasks.  These had runic labels as well as regulating runes.  The regulation was not that odd considering many of the quartz and glass vials had them as well but the sheer power held in the runes astounded the curious boy.  The labels were given simple names "Life," "Spirit," "Speak," "Listen," "Speed," "Agility," "Protect," "Courage," "Sight," "Banish," etceteras encouraged Harry to set these aside as well until he knew what they were more specifically.  Harry was halfway through an article on the potion development process and testing using the Wolfsbane potion as the given example, (even thought this potion was only partially developed it was already released for practical use) when he was doused with ice cold water.  Turning around he saw the red head walking out of the door.  

Muttering a drying charm over himself (his books he had charmed Wednesday lunch when one of Ron's pranks had almost ruined his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages) Harry walked out the door heading down to catch the end breakfast.

...

'He is a Slytherin already.  I figured it out over the summer.  He really should just sit over at their table.  I mean look at him...' Ron Weasley grumbled at breakfast.  The food on his plate kept on vanishing and he was sure that Fred and George had struck a deal with the House Elfs. He had stopped using his utensils believing they were charmed to no avail.  He finally gave up and just started eating directly from the serving bowl.  Percy was horrified at his brother's actions and it took a minute for half the table to turn and stare at in amusement the entertaining second year.  Between eating handfuls of scrambled eggs and porridge he continued his conversation with the non responsive Hermione (she was dumbstruck at his manners as well).  

It took the drinking directly from the pumpkin juice pitcher to move her into action.  'Ronald Weasley were you raised in the Amazon?!'

'The blasted House Elfs have been clearing any food on my plate before it even touches it!  My silver ware is cursed to do the same!  It is the only way that I can get a bloody meal,' to highlight his point Ron proceeded to dump some scrambled eggs on his plate.  With the rest of the school watching Phobos was not going to touch it.  'Fine then at least my fork is cursed,' and the dense idiot we all know and love shoves a sausage in his mouth.

'Ron you do realise that you just used your fork to put food into your mouth?  Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey.  Just to make sure that the potion explosion did not cause any brain damage, okay?' Hermione simpered at him.

'I am fine! Okay you don't want me to miss Charms class would you,' Ron tried to placate after his outburst.  Everyone looked away seeing that the show was over.

A minute latter Ron was dragged out of the hall by an irate transfiguration teacher.  

He was licking maple syrup off his fingers.

...

A beet red Weasley was ten minutes late to class.

Today they were learning a charm to make single bubbles appear in chosen colours.  The purpose of this was a review of last year's teachings and an introduction into joining thoughts with the charms.  

There was only so much stupidity that people could take before it no longer affected them.

Ron's production of the throbbing green boil on Flitwicks forehead forced the teacher to send him out of class with a note for the headmaster.

What did interest Harry though was a mistake of Neville's.  He had not been thinking of a specific colour when casting which produced an ugly puke green bubble as it moved into the sunlight from the window it changed to mauve but when Neville morosely popped it the rain of multicoloured drops encouraged Harry in the attempt of creating a colour cycling one.

By the end of the lesson he had been able to have it shift through the entire spectrum.  No one actually noticed when he hissed slightly too thin air.

...

'Corporate takeover', how Juliet Mason loved those words.  She and her husband were the last two in the office at their corporate headquarters besides the cleaners.  In many other businesses the executive officers only make an appearance for the share holders and leave the grunt work to others.  Mason Corporation however was not like that at all.  The business had started with the two of them and by heaven it would continue to be supported by the two of them.  No job two high or two low that they would not do it to pick up the slack.  They were directly involved on all levels of the business and had direct say from architecture to waste basket.  

Now back to corporate takeover.

A high tech industry based firm was days before bankruptcy.  It would have been successful had they not made one rather large corporate law suit, something with some faulty hospital equipment and a pathology labs contamination.  Long story short they lost the case and are days from complete shut down.

Mason Corporation is one three bidders or we should say was, Jules in the last twenty four hours called in all her chips and risked it on a double hostile takeover.  SeaCross Communications is/was computer and mobile device communications company that was still riding the technology boom.  A meeting in two weeks with the board of directors was expected to be a negative about the expansion and upgrade of the existing networks.  This expectation in the last five days have unsettled the stock holders and cut the share prices by a third.  With inside information leaked to Chris and Jules, they knew that this would be happening they now controlled seventy three percent of the stock.

The second company was Calipso Technologies.  It was mostly an aeronautical and space engineering firm supplying components to different countries/ companies around the globe as well as their own GPS and communication satellite network.  Jules has followed their stock for months in order grab a hold of this gem.  By Monday morning they would have control of fifty eight percent of above mentioned company.  The rest of it can be obtained at a latter date.

Hence 'was' considering they would have all three of the bidders.  The CEO of the bankrupt company always cut corners in production, having virtually zero to none quality control.  The fact that he slapped Jules' ass the last time they met only made the deal that much sweeter.  So at the moment Jules and Chris were sitting up in their office going through several proposals of how to reorganize their future companies to have them run smoother.  They already had the internal auditors ready to go through the entire operation.

Capturing three companies in the time frame of two weeks was Jules' highest achievement to date and if asked she would know that it was the extra long office hours that secured them.

So Friday night sounding ideas back and forth as they went over the proposals and the middle of the office a burst of fire and feathers and from no where Phobos appears a meter above the Persian rug the three heads shake back and forth as they blink their collective eyes before they soared around the expansive room before coming to a stop over the conference table where the Masons were going over the proposals.  They each hissed into the air before curling around the back of Jules neck and dropping a scroll that they had been holding wrapped in their tail unnoticed by the two adults.

...

_Friday 6th September_

_Hey Jules and Chris!_

_I got here safe and sound if not a little worse for wear._

_I wish I could have written to you sooner and I don't know if you are ever going to get a chance to read this.  Every letter sent by any owl in the school takes it through the headmaster's office first.  I don't even think that any of the staff even realise the extent of this.  _

_I did something so stupid when on the first day of class.  He had covered Hedwig with charms and she is my owl, my first friend.  I wanted him to not of tainted this one thing so I started to pull them off.  I had not listened to Damon's information about Dumble being a master of the dark arts.  The spells..._

_I did not mean to I tried to undo it but it was still too late.  The spells were tied into her soul and when I pulled part of them off her soul shattered.  Her body still lives but I do not know for how long.  She just sits on the perch she was on when she came to greet me.  She breaths but there is nothing in her eyes.  Her eyes are so dead.  I think sometimes that everyone would be better off if I slipped off somewhere where nobody can find me.  Then maybe this won't happen to people I care so much about.  _

_I am sorry for bothering you two, I don't even expect you to be able to respond or even read it.  _

_I have no one here.  All the friends I thought I had were nothing more than Dumbledore's puppets.  Like marionettes he holds all the strings.  Appropriate really, if I cut the strings they fall down like dead weight.  Dumble has Ron being a prat.  The friends I had were nothing but a way for him to manipulate me.  It would be so much easier if he just cursed me and I could be oblivious to it all._

_I was happy last year living his lie but now that I have seen his bars I want out of his cage._

_I saw something the afternoon after Hedwig... _

_I don't think I am the first person that he has done this to._

_I am not sure if it makes me feel better or worse._

_Most classes are going all right.  Our Defence teacher is another joke.  The positive thing is he is such a prat that there is little chance of him actively trying to kill me.  Unfortunately his incompetence might.  Today he unleashed a horde of Cornish pixies.  His books even mention that though placid in the fields and glen they become quite destructive in enclosed areas.  I wonder if he even comprehends what he wrote._

_Positive side the lack of peer communications have forced me to study harder..._

_PRAT! I can't believe the nerve of the old man.  Ron just came up to me like the last week never happened.  He believes that we are still friends.  He punches me just because some kid asked for a picture as well as getting a detention without getting to even throw one back and expects me to jump at a chance of being his friend.  Well screw that, I should have taken Malfoy's hand last year, at least then I could know not to trust my friends._

_Hermione has not said more than a word to me since we got here.  She looks at me sometimes as if I were a rock or something to study.  I wonder what she thinks though I am afraid to even ask._

_I think that just writing this has helped._

_I am going to talk to Phobos for a while before going to bed._

_I don't think I am going to send this but thankyou for listening._

_Love_

_Your Charge,_

Harry

...

The two Masons were both happy and sad at the contents of the letter.  The idea of he leaving their life even considering the short time that they have been with each other was incomprehensible.  They wrote telling him of the corporate stuff as well as mentioning that the tutor will meet up with them over Christmas.  Harry was to be a part of their whole life not just the one behind the gates of home.  They wanted him to be able to understand where they came from and where they are going.  They did not want to leave him out of anything even though he would not understand most of it yet.

Jules woke up Phobos at around midnight and sent them back with the letter and a package of sweets that they had intended to send it to him.

...

Oliver Wood has a dream.

He will win this year's Quidditch Cup.

He spent so much time with his game plans that some of his homework was not up to his normally high standard.

Last year they would have one if Harry had just let Quirrel go.

It is the highest priority in his books.

He had been up since four making sure that all of his plays are perfect.

Last year they relied too much on their seeker.

This year would be different.

There! The sky is starting to lighten. Time to get everyone up.

...

Harry has been more perceptive this year than he was last year.  He was catching more and more details that another might consider minimal.  Tuesday night he saw Wood approach Madam Hooch.  He then approached her after words and found that Wood had booked the pitch for Saturday morning.  Thursday morning Malfoy received a letter via eagle owl (Dumbledore's charms were interestingly absent) and had a smug smile all through lunch.  Harry caught the end of the conversation between Malfoy and Flint.

'Let me try out and they are the teams regardless whether or not I make it,' Malfoy said conversationally (though Harry knew he was nervous by the look in his eyes).

'So we let you try for the position and if my brother beats you we still get all seven?'

'Yes as long as he beats me with out outside help or being caught breaking the rules.  Deal?'

Harry's curiosity was peeked by the hopeful tone taken by his Slytherin rival.

'Fine deal, have them here by tomorrow morning and I'll see if we can get on the pitch tomorrow and test you two with Snitch and Bludgers.  We will be aiming at both of you.  Play until Snitch is caught or until both of you or unconscious.  Then we will see who gets the spot.  Best Slytherin wins.  You will get second string at least.  I will talk to the rest of the team.  Now get to class, Transfig right?'

The Ravenclaws had placed a third year Cho Chang as Seeker.  She was a decent player but she follows the other Seeker more often than looking for the Snitch.  It may have worked if she held a faster broom except she did not.  So unless the Beaters take out the other Seeker then it is already a lost cause.

Harry was more concerned with the fifth year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory.  He actually focused his entire being on finding the winged gold ball, only keeping rudimentary observation of the rest of the players and other balls.  Generally speaking his were the best instincts between him and Chang, though he was more likely to be hit with a Bludger.

Last years Slytherin Seeker was decent.  He could catch the Snitch and he kept an eye out for Bludgers.  Unfortunately he also was a seventh year.  Being realistic Harry was positive that his first and only win over him was a lucky break. 

Harry had written a letter to the Masons to organize his thoughts and figure out what he was going to do next.  It had been really cathartic to clear the air around the loss of his pet.  Halfway through the letter Phobos had shown up and asked (read annoyed to the point of frustration, three against one was never fair) what he was doing.  Which Harry finally replied to writing a letter.

When Ron came in to reconcile Harry restrained his anger.  He was not angry at Ron.  He was angry at manipulative old goats.  He soon realised that Ron was his minder.  If he did not want old goats having greater control of his life he would have to play into his hand.  Harry spent half an hour coming up with bigger and better ways of taking care of old goats.  Phobos seemed to enjoy this though it was Osirus specifically that reminded us that they could not get caught.  

His head hit the pillow and he was unconscious before he knew it.

...

'Colin if you come near me again with that camera of yours I will incinerate it.  If you stop me once more for no specific point other than to just say hello I will be forced to borrow Filch's manacles and hang you in your underclothes from the rafters in the Great Hall by your big toes.  I want a copy of all pictures you have taken of me by this time tomorrow.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? Nod yes or no,' Harry said while picking up the first year (who actually was the same height as him) after being bombarded by questions about Quidditch.

Colin immediately nodded yes.  When Harry set him on the floor he scrambled back up the stairs to the first year dorms.  Unfortunately for him and the three Chasers it was the wrong set of stairs.  They collapsed underneath them and the three girls crashed on top of the unfortunate above mentioned first year.  

Harry, with the picture from Colin in his pocket, just shook his head at the calamity and walked out the portrait hole with his Nimbus 2000 over his left shoulder.

...

'...will make all the difference...'

'Oliver may I make a suggestion before you continue on with your diagrams?'

'Harry? Sure,' the captain was instantly curious about the normally quiet Seeker.

'If we go out on the pitch now and warm up in the air we might be able to better remember the plays you have come up with,' Harry nodded his head at the semi conscious team mates.

The over enthusiastic captain blinked owlishly at the preteen's advice.  Looking at the rest of the team he seemed to process their condition and immediately said, 'why not?'

...

Okay Harry knew it took quite a bit of fun out of the effort but his magical senses could never be completely ignored and the Quidditch balls were very magical in nature.  The Snitch more so than most.  In other words it screamed "I am here," on the side of all his perceptions.  He followed it as it wandered aimlessly.  The team was worried when he became nothing but a speck in the dawn sky only to plummet straight down to only pull up the last second before flying around all three goal posts.

'Have you seen the Snitch?'  Wood asked wondering if Harry had finally cracked.

Harry's hand whipped out to Oliver's right ear only to pull back the said winged ball.

'Should I have another go?'

Wood shook his head in the negative before calling everyone in to describe his new strategies before they actually applied them.  He had been rather unbalanced when the youngest team member had released the balls during their "warm up" only to go soaring of into the stratosphere.

'You have got to be kidding me.  I booked the pitch for today,' Wood cursed out in righteous outrage. 'We'll see about this!'

Harry realising exactly where this was heading.  Noticing the blond hair in the back of the group of green robes, he flew down near the Slytherins and shook his head in dismay at Wood's temper and to make the matters worse two second year Gryffindors invaded the pitch.  Knowing how this situation would only deteriorate fast, he watched as the new Seeker came forward and they displayed the seven new Nimbus 2001 brooms.  Then the famous Weasley big mouth had to be opened.

'What's happening?' Ron asked Harry. 'Why did you stop? And what's _he _doing here?'

At this point Harry turned upside down and hung with his head at the same level as the red head staring straight at the said Weasley.

'Quite simple,' stated Harry not liking the implied camaraderie. '_He _is the newest member of Slytherins Quidditch team.  They have permission to use the pitch and have even extended a polite invitation to join them for invading our scheduled time.  I thought we, as the Gryffindor team, were going to be discussing some new plays Oliver came up with so I don't really see the need for confrontation nor do I see a reason for the two of you to be out here?  Are you here to watch your brothers?'

He may concede to Dumbledore but he would not make it too easy for him.

'Hermione can I borrow a quill and ink for a minute?' Harry turned to the brown haired girl.  She handed one over with out even a hesitation.  Harry then pulled out the picture he got from Creevey and signed it "From one Seeker to another -Harry Potter."

'Thanks Hermione, can you take the rabid pet back to the castle before he bites and injures himself?'  Harry heard the curse uttered behind him and shook his head.  'Too late,' and Harry pointed Ron off the pitch before turning to the Slytherin team's newest acquisition who was trying to control his laughter.  'Congrats Malfoy. So are you any good?  Mind if I join you fellows?'  Harry released the Snitch he had been holding before handing the photo to the Malfoy heir and taking off, leaving a speechless Gryffindor team as Hermione dragged Weasley off to the hospital wing.

...

Malfoy looked down at the picture of a shirtless barefoot Harry walking away from him giving him the finger.

Quite appropriate he felt.  At least if he compared it to their supposed animosity of last year.

The blond boy had no clue what was going on.  He tried to figure out Potter's motive.

'We could never have been friends you know,' Harry spoke to the other Seeker that against his team mates wishes was sitting several hundred feet in the air next to him. He continued his thoughts out loud before the blond could respond, 'you insulted the man that had just rescued me from the Dursleys,' the blond tried to figure out why Harry was confiding in him.  'I already have more enemies than I can take care of in one life time. I don't need ones that I can cultivate into healthier relationships.  Your family is not with Dumbledore are they?' 

At this point Harry once again hung upside down from his broom, 'Doesn't matter any how...'

Harry pointed his broom down before he let it go and free fell.

...

'Bloody hell!'

'...did you hear?'

'..thousand feet!'

'...let go!'

The whispers and exclamations followed Harry as he walked into the Great Hall at dinner.  The entire Gryffindor and Slytherin teams had seen him fall through the field of play.  Malfoy had zoomed down after him only to see him grab the broom the last instant before swinging around it three times before dismounting.  When the teams had flown down to see what Harry was thinking he tossed the winged ball at the blond haired Slytherin. 'Better luck next time,' and with that he walked off the pitch not to be seen until then.  The rumours being aided by a picture taken by a certain first year with impeccable timing.

'Mr. Potter, where were you when I was looking for you during lunch?' Professor McGonagall queried after seeing the second year walking towards the opposite end of the Gryffindor table.

'I was reviewing for potions professor.  Is there a reason why you are looking for me?'  The boy spoke quietly but his voice had a strange edge to it that made Minerva want to keep this conversation as short as possible.

'You will be serving detention tonight at eight helping Professor Lockhart with his fan mail.  Now go ahead and grab something to eat before dinner is over,' she replied before turning back to her seat at the staff table.

...

Harry had in fact spent the end of the morning and afternoon reading the letters that Phobos had brought him from the Masons.  Osirus had tried to explain their fire travel but had yet to make it clear until they popped across the room (Harry had taken temporary residence in an unused lounge near the headmaster's office, with permission from Hogwarts) with a glass bauble they had recovered from the lake.  After reading the letters he wrote a new one for Damon with details of what he had found out thus far.  About Hedwig and her soul binding magic.  How the headmaster had most the school spell bound specifically his supposed friends.  There were several types of the headmaster's minions.

First were the puppets. These were the people who had so many commands on them that the commands were an intrinsic part of their persona.  This included Ron, Percy, and Virginia Weasley and Hermione Granger as well as all of the other muggle borns.

Second were there were the automatons.  These were those that the headmaster set the general rules for but left in place with little active command changes.  This is a lot of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.  These commands were complemented by being raised in the light (Dumbledore is "good") though in most instances Dumbledore only had to ask for his will to be so.

If the first two were the hands of the headmaster the next ones would be better defined as his eyes and ears.  Dumbledore knew everything that these hear or see and some of what they think.  Harry knew that there had to be blind spots to these and was currently trying to find confidentiality spells or curses that could work.

The fourth were recorders.  Dumbledore had access to what they see and here but only when he meets them and retrieves it from the spells memory.  These included a lot of Ravenclaw and three Slytherins.  

As far as he could tell the "purer" the blood line the less susceptible the wizard was to his influence and Hogwarts' wards actually attempted to block some of his charms though they were quite weak.

He told Damon about how he felt Lockhart was an idiot who hardly knew what was written in his own books let alone skilled enough to do the endeavours he claims in the fore mentioned books.  He even wrote his discoveries with the charm casting and his desire being linked.  Then he posed a few dark magic questions and queries about the potions from Damon's package.  

_'...I wish a could talk to you in person and could show you what I mean._

_Thanks for listening_

_Harry'_

Phobos then proceeded to carry it with them when they disappeared in a puff of feather and flame.

...

Unfortunately for Harry he was already standing outside his defence teacher's office when the man opened the door spilling light out into the second floor corridor.  Harry almost decided to just turn around and plead that he could not find the professor for the detention and deal with the consequences at a later date.

'Ah here's the scallywag! he said. 'Come in, Harry, come in.'

Harry trudged into the office to be met with a most horrifying sight.  Hundreds of Lockhart's were smiling and winking at him, from within pictures, in various poses wearing the gaudiest robes imaginable.  Several of them were already signed.  When Harry sat down at the professor's desk the said man pulled out his seat and sat down.  Unnerved by all of the grinning idiot's stares Harry kept his eyes pointed directly at a bare spot on the desk.

'Harry, Harry, Harry,' Lockhart reached out a hand and grasped his shoulder. '_I understand_ how you may want to get noticed, especially with such a noted celebrity already on the grounds - I can only blame myself for not seeing it earlier,' the man prattled on word the look of horror on Harry's face melted into one of amusement, '- but see here young man, you can't go around _diving off brooms, _to get attention.  A child your age should not be doing such drastic stunts. Just calm down, all right? There will be plenty of time for that later when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking! "It's all right for him; he's an internationally famous wizard already!" But when I was twelve I was as much a nobody as you are now.  Probably more so, I mean a few people have heard about you haven't they? All that business with He Who Must Not Be Named!' He turned his eyes to Harry's forehead. 'I know, I know, it's not quite as good as winning _Witch Weekly_'s Most Charming-Smile Award five times in a row as I have - but it's a _start_, Harry, it's a _start._'  The irritating man then placed a stack of envelopes in front of the boy who lived. 'You can address the envelopes!' Lockhart exclaimed as if he should humble at the honour of doing so.  

Harry only smirked as he wrote down the first name.  He wondered if Lockhart had realised he was currently wearing a bright green mud mask?  

The boy allowed the man to continue with his asinine commentary; attempting give him a hand as a potential celebrity.  Every time he wanted to stupefy him he just looked up and grinned.  The man for some odd reason the idiot was encouraged by this.  Halfway through the fan mail Harry stopped paying attention to the names he was fed and wrote his own altered fan list.

After he started this the time seemed to fly by.  Pratt had not been checking the envelopes and Harry knew it was getting late when he heard something that was a tad odd.  Lockhart was talking about a photo shoot he had done in Kenya and was completely oblivious to the dying candles around the room.  

Besides the oblivious one a different voice sounded.  A snake obviously. He could tell that much from all the conversations with the hybrid.  This one sounded vindictive _'Come ... Come to messs bearded one, let me rip yousss ... let me tearsss yousss ... let me kill yousss ... no one will locksss Aegisss up againsss ...'_

Harry carefully set his quill down and turned to the professor and waited till the man had a moment of silence so he did not have to interrupt him.

Five minutes later and the wizard lost the last of his patience. 'Hey professor did you know that lack of sleep could prematurely age an individual?'  Harry suppressed his laugh as the man felt his face and was horrified to find the mask that was flaking off his skin.  Harry was not sure if he still realised it was just a mud mask.  'Look at the time, Harry.  We really should be off beauty sleep and all that.  See you in class next week...' Harry was not sure if the man continued to talk after he left but he was already out the door and down the hall.

The snake was no longer around and he could not sense any indication of where it had gone.

The Gryffindor common room was almost empty by the time he got back to it.  The boys' dorm smelled like polish and it seemed to be directed from Ron's bed.  Harry assumed he had been polishing armours or some such with Filch.  'Serves the prick right, thought the tired wizard.  Getting into his pyjamas Harry got under the covers and closed his eyes as he tried to figure out where the snake's voice was coming from.

* * *

Anyone who thinks Dumbledore always does what is in everyones best interests obviously has no experience with human nature. Human beings when it comes down to it are selfish by nature. 

The only reason why I would use slash at this stage is to go against social expectations. To say only slash stories are ruined because of the relationships would be entirely false. I think that even more stories are ruined because the writer attempts to pair off Harry with a girl and then focuses on that reguardless what plot they have. 

In these type of stories relationships should be treated like proper application of make up. Used to highlight features but hardly noticable. If anyone wants a relationship I think the author should clearly note it is their intention for such.

OK I just had the oddest idea. If Rowling wanted to use a part of fanfiction story would she have to credit the author? And can anyone imagine the lawsuit that would follow if not? It would be all that man bites dog story right?

Oh and by the way I think I read Slytherin_Damian's profile before I brought up slash.


	13. If you go into the woods today

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

* * *

_Alone..._

_So alone..._

_Abandoned once again._

_Caught on the border of life and death._

_Incompetent fools._

_Shadows and light._

_Darkness and cold winds._

_Thick underbrush._

_...give up._

_...no right or reason._

_Here by sheer force of will._

_Whether it be seconds..._

_...minutes_

_...hours_

_...days_

_...weeks_

_...months_

_...years_

_They will come..._

_They have to come..._

_Without them all is lost..._

_...hopeless_

_...barren_

_Cold_

_So cold_

_Dark_

_Death_

_It calls..._

_It calls to me..._

_...peace_

_...rest_

_...welcome_

_Promise of better tomorrow..._

_...weary_

_So tired_

_So cold_

_But it is wrong..._

_So wrong..._

_Stay away from the light._

_The light offers oh so much needed relief._

_But the cost is so very dear._

_Must fight..._

_Must survive..._

_Regardless of the cost..._

_...will not let them beat me._

_I will win..._

_I must win..._

_For if I don't..._

_...I am lost._

_So cold._

_Shades and shadows..._

_...hunger_

...

Harry watched as the sun rose over mountains that shaped the skyline on the far side of the lake.  He sat near the window with his knees pulled up to his chest.  The frame was of ancient wood and stone and the the heat from his hand left a ghostly impression on the cold glass.

The room was comfortable.

The dorm room was always comfortable.

His dorm mates continued to sleep unhindered by the troubles that weighed heavily on the miserable young wizards shoulders.  He knew he was at a turning point in his mentality.  He knew that the rest of his life hinged on the decisions he would make and that he was stuck between two paths at the moment.  To act and play into the headmaster's hands gave him a certain type of freedom while it also limited his actions to the shadows and closed doors.  To, in essence, knowingly live a lie.  Though if he rebelled against the old man he knew Dumbledore could and would twist his world to make his life a living hell.  He doubted that Dumbledore would abandon a pawn, as developed as he, while it still had potential.  He would forever haunt his life until death, his own or Dumbledore's.

Harry knew that ignorance would be better, for being shown behind the illusions have stolen his naiveté, his innocence.  It was so unfair.  Why could he not be just a normal boy?  Why did he have to be chosen as a pawn in the sick and twisted power games? And most importantly, the question every individual asks at some point in their life, why me?

The minutes ticked onward and the world became lighter as the golden globe rose over the horizon.  Inversely the young wizard's mind continued moving into darker levels trying to figure out what of his life was fate and what were the actions of the goat.  Some of the ramifications of his thought were horrible and he had no idea of how far the man was willing to push.

Harry wanted to survive and he was not willing to gamble his freedom and sanity.  To act kept the ball in his court.  He would hold his cards close to his chest and hope when it was time to call it would not be his bluff.

...

About an hour before breakfast, while his dorm mates still slept behind the crimson curtains of their luxurious four poster beds, Phobos returned.  Or maybe it should be crashed?

Harry was lost in thought when all of a sudden there was a loud thump from the other side of the glass.  When he peered out the window and found ...nothing.  His hand passed through his multicoloured hair to ensure it was all out of his eyes.  He turned when he heard a large thump over near Neville's bed, behind his drawn curtains.  When he peeked through he met a face full of snake.

_Ssssorry, detour...' _Osirus mentioned before the other two snorted.

With no more word the snake dropped a rectangular package on his bed along with a letter and a note.

...

_Harry!_

_Quite surprised by your new friends sudden arrival, Phobos right?  It is very useful for it to carry the gift of __Phoenix__ Flight (travel by fire regardless of wards).  There was a slight scuffle where there was a fire ball thrown in my direction (I am not sure this was intentional so I will not hold it against them).  The Lockhart's of the world are our favourite wizards.  Not only does he release a great deal of misinformation but he takes out so many of the Dark creature experts **cough hunters**.  One of my ...er relations actually spent time with a certain vampire hunter in __Albania__.  Oddly enough the book 'Voyages with Vampires' for some odd reason coincides with her experiences (even mentioning her name and parentage at one point) with the dreadful man.  Little issue from her, she honestly never remembers coming across any man by the name Lockhart.  When she tracked down the original hunter he no longer seemed to remember that he was even a wizard.  Don't take the idiot at face value and never confront him when you're alone._

_There has always been quite a deal of speculation on Dumbledore's line.  They tend to hold positions of power with little to no effort.  What you describe sounds accurate to other accounts.  Binding soul magic is not something that should ever be taken lightly.  As a human wizard I knew that it was something better left alone and most of wizarding society tends to agree with that.  After I crossed over, the soul magic became quite a bit easier for me to understand.  Vampires tend to deal with blood magics which are closely related to the soul variety.  What happened to Hedwig though is not surprising, though the fact that even the owls are bound at that level is worrying, especially at Hogwarts.  Slytherin's dark magic wards should still be in place which should make such things almost impossible.  Hogwarts wards should increase in strength as time continues absorbing much of the magic that its students and professors release.  There are ways to "block" the soul magic, but those that you called puppets and most of the automatons would be beyond help as the magic is so deeply imbedded in their personas that if you remove it, that which is considered themselves would be destroyed.  New personalities could be built but the effort of retraining them would be so taxing as to render all methods unfeasible on such a potentially large portion of the population.  I am sorry.  You spoke so highly of Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley that I know that it must hurt so much.  There is nothing you can do about it, so do not take it personally._

_I have been subcontracted to the dragon reserve in __Romania__ so I should have plenty of time available over the next few months.  Wizards are such idiots (I never considered you a wizard so there should be no insult, but they really are idiots).  They have yet to realize that the only thing needed in handling creatures, regardless of race or level of magic, is to think like them, empathize per say; to understand their motives behind their actions.  Instead they all use brute force to subdue them.  Then they have the nerve to not realize that the reason they are trying to fry them is that there are dozens of spells shot at them.  I would react in the exact same way damn it.  Feel free to contact me whenever, my door will always be open (though please tell your friend that fire and vampires do not mix)._

_As to your questions about the potions, if you need them then you will know how to use them.  If you don't, don't touch them.  Each of them are deadly in their own right whether because they are poison or overdose.  The runic ones are actually charmed to be self explanatory when needed.  The book in the package should force one of the potions to reveal their purpose and use.  Please read the note, then look through the potions, before you open the package and after you have breakfast when you have a day free._

_I will keep an eye out and think over what you have revealed._

_Don't let the old man get you down._

_Friendly Yours,_

_Damon_

_PS I stumbled on an old spell that charmed any written language to parseltounge.  Phobos nodded when she read the note so you should have no problem reading this letter._

_PPS Warning you should know that I intentionally picked the vilest book that I could find, have fun._

...

At breakfast Harry sat near Ron and Hermione.  Ron oddly being his normal morning self had yet to say a word to either of the other two as he shoved handfuls of food into his mouth.  Hermione on the other hand had no clue how to start the conversation that needed to be done.  Harry just sat there in silence pretending ignorance as he brought another forkfull of pancakes to his mouth.  Hermione did not notice when one of the sausages on her plate vanished from thin air though Harry's knowledge of the hybrids existence probably gave him an advantage in this observation.  Hermione looked down at her plate just as Ron was grabbing a sausage link from the serving dish.  When Hermione looked up her confused look turned to one of severe annoyance.

Really, Ron Weasley.  If it is not bad enough that you insist on eating with your hand right from the platter you have to go about and take it from some ones plate,'  the bushy haired witch growled.

I already told you that some thing was stealing stuff from my plate!  And I never touched your plate!  I bet it is the bloody house elfs...' The red head did not immediately notice the piece of bacon vanishing from the palm of his hand until he bit his finger instead of the crisp meat.

You probably have just eaten it so fast that you can't remember the inhalation!' Hermione was about to go into full rant mode when her academic senses tingled, 'What in the world is a house elf?'

Little to say she did not notice the pile of eggs on her plate disappear into thin air.

...

That was ...interesting,' the green eyed Gryffindor thought to himself.  The horrified look on Hermione's face when she found out where all her food came from was priceless.  Harry missed the chopping block once again and he did not have to justify his actions yet.

Harry took the long way back to his dorm room and was walking along the battlements that looked over the lake's eastern shores.  The giant squid stuck out a tentacle and skipped a stone the size of a small horse across the cold crystal clear clean waters.  The forbidden forest so dark and frightening last year after facing the shade of Voldemort, was so stunning and alluring.  It whispered of wonder and adventure on the wind.  The cool breeze blew from the mountains to the north.  Harry felt that the clean smell of rain and snow was refreshing.

It was at this moment that Harry realised exactly why the founder's chose this spot for building their castle of knowledge.  He felt honoured to be there and promised that he would continue to follow the ideals that they had set together for the school and the greater wizarding world.

The ancient stone beneath his feet warn smooth by a thousand years had stories to tell of all that had happened here.  Of battles and treaties, of honour and treachery, of ages past and ages forgotten.  He felt very humbled as these thoughts filtered through his mind and it was a much more peaceful Harry Potter that entered Gryffindor tower than the one that had left for breakfast.

...

_Harry,_

_The book that is wrapped within this cloth is charmed with some rather interesting enchantments.  These by themselves might be considered Dark Arts because of how they react directly with the mind yet they are common among certain books.  The vial you want is a crystal runic one, though you will have to use your instinct to find the right one._

_I suggest that you close your curtains and do this on your bed away from prying eyes.  The charms can get a little enthusiastic._

_Damon_

...

Harry pulled his potions kit from his trunk and set it in the middle of his bed and then proceeded to take of his socks and shoes.  He closed and warded his curtains to keep everyone away.  He pulled his robe over his head and got in a comfortable position before he opened the JP3 before proceeding to pick up the crystal vial that called his attention, though it was not the only one. "Sustain," the descriptive runes read.  "A drop an hour. Twenty all together.  Consumed all at once," the runes had given the impression of this more than actually reading this precisely.  Harry consumed the recommended dose and felt a warm feeling in his stomach.  He carefully resealed the vial as he put it away.

Turning to the package that he would later curse and bless he opened it.

_"From Bylaws to Declarations- Global Wizarding Laws: An In-depth Analysis, collective work of the Wizemengot and international Ministries, updated daily..." _Harry read almost putting the book down as soon as his mind comprehended the cover.  Yet he could not and his hand quickly opened the cover very much against the will.  Every word he read burned into his memory ready for instant recall.  

He swore very painful revenge against his vampire friend.

Reading about the proper procedure to register a charm in thirty two separate countries could almost be considered interesting.

The various trade agreements between different ministries including an island some where in Indonesia that had three thousand thirt two different procedures (not including combinations of two or more procedures) depending on various factors including whether the moon and Mars were in the same quadrant had been (Harry realised early on he could plan new torture methods and read at the same time, death by bunny rabbit one of his personal favourites) enlightening.

The quarantine methods on potion ingredients actually turned his stomach.  

Immigration processes in the Norwegian Ministry had been tedious (including the thirty utensils required in the welcome feast) especially considering it came with wizarding pictures.  

The cross species breeding restrictions in England were educational.  Phobos was actually against the law in no less than seventeen ways not including what ever spells were used in their development.

The process of electing delegate members to the Oceania council of wizards was humorous (the mating dance of the Billywig certainly looked complicated).

Beauxbatons' process of replacing a professor of etiquette almost had Harry breaking free of the damn books magic.  Though the rights and responsibilities of British professors had him thinking of ways to hex the headmaster.

The several hundred Qudditch fouls gave him a few ideas to try out during the next match.

The laws of releasing a new product on the general wizarding population left him baffled.  While the muggle protection act made him contemplative.  Classification of people and beasts (past and present ones) were a joke.  

The werewolf registry acts of South Africa were down right barbaric.

After the eighth hour of reading the proper way to greet some minister of magic Harry had upped the level of revenge to involve sharp weapons and creamed cheese.

In the twelfth hour he had decided that he would have to kill him several times as painfully as possible.

The fourteenth carried on to accordion playing chipmunks.

By the sixteenth hour and with some interesting charm casting he devised death by singing purple dinosaur.

In the seventeenth he admitted that the dino might be too cruel but killer bees looked promising.

In hour nineteen the boy decided he might be able to kill two birds with one stone by involving Gilderoy Lockhart.

He soon decided that that plan had to be saved for either Dumbledore or Snape.

When the spell finally had him read the minutes of the last Wizengamot closed council meeting and then re wrap the book he breathed a sigh of relief.

When he turned back to the note that was with the book he read the new text that appeared there.

...

_I warned you that it was vile so you can't hold it against me.  You can keep the book and if you try to read it again you will only get the updated information.  It trapped me for two hours the last time I read it.  A motto to live by, "If you are planning to break the law you may as well do it right."  Write again soon I really don't mind hearing from you.  Don't let them get you down._

...

Professor McGonagall was not pleased.

Well if that tick in her left eye was any indication her emotion might have been a little bit stronger.

For some odd reason she did not enjoy being the recipient of over a thousand of her colleagues fan letters.  Especially when most arrived just in time for her breakfast.  Some may have been a little early at four thirty in the morning.  Monday morning, her classes were continuously disrupted by late stragglers.

Unfortunately Harry did not take into a unique ability that teachers tend to develop after years of experience.  

She could easily identify any of her students' handwriting.

He would later recall that the two weeks with Filch built character yeah character, not even taking into consideration that Filch's detentions were no where near the level that the Dursley's had subjected him to.

It gave him a unique perspective on the school, especially trophy rooms and poltergeists.

(Damon had yet to send the book on wizarding spells for ghost and spirits.)

The entire experience taught him one very important life lesson that he would treasure many years down the track, "don't get caught."

...

As September drifted into October the weather took a turn for the cold and wet.  

Most of the Quidditch team were being driven batty by Wood's "training" sessions.  Well most but not including the green eyed second year.  The young Potter did not even feel the cold rain.  He would take off, fly a few laps and then get right in to the manoeuvres.  There were times that even Oliver Wood believed his seeker was missing some mental functions, but as long as he stayed on his broom and caught the snitch he would not complain.

...

In the third week of September, Harry had finally cleared the last of the headmaster's magic from the lounge he had found.  The magic affected the millennia old wards in such ways that it circumvented half of the safeguards in place.  It also forced an unnatural feeling of security on those that were ignorant of such.  To be completely honest they made him sick.

He was sure that Hogwarts agreed with him.

He now spent more time in his lounge than in the Gryffindor common room.

It was here he was able to talk directly with his three headed familiar and it was here he could modify his charms and create ones with slightly more interesting results.  It was not odd to see the odd bald rat or frogs with wings in that section of the castle.  Mrs. Norris even spent several hours bumping drunkenly into walls down near the potions lab.  Apparently some Slytherin (rumours pointed to Professor Snape) actually took photos.

Dumbledore's manipulations stretched far and wide.  The first time he had reached over to use his invisibility cloak, he dropped it in shock, when he felt the headmaster's personal touches.  It now connected to several of his wards (ones that were stronger than his bindings) few of which were tied into a location system.  He quickly felt that he should not be surprised for how else could he have crossed him with the Mirror of Erised.

Harry hated how dark his first happy memories became when his eyes were wide open, bitter even.

...

The storms broke one Sunday in the middle of October.  The clouds parted and the air became almost comfortable.  Walking along the shore of the lake closest to the castle the young wizard breathed in the magic saturated air and breathed out some of his darker thoughts.  The forbidden forest looked extremely alluring in the early autumn morning light.  He had watched as the sky grew from black to grey and finally burst into the spectrum of colours of the sunrise.  Light reflecting off the clouds on the horizon warned of the storms that were even then not far away.  As if to emphasize this point lightening flashed within the distant storm  The student once fearful of the forests inhabitants was left with nothing but an odd need to explore.  The very fact of its forbidden nature only increased its appeal.  Following the shore until he reached the closest part of the ancient forest Harry walked carefully with the only sounds being the hisses and occasional flutters of feathered wings from his invisible companions.

The trees that he passed were tall and majestic though no two were exactly alike.  The further into the woods he walked along the winding path the cooler it became.  The sun only occasionally broke through the canopy above him and the light created a surrealistic impression almost as if Harry was wondering through a dream.  Magic flowed through every millimetre of the hinterland, but here the magic was alive.  It teased the senses, played through the air, flowed in the streams, fed the roots, and clung to the rocks.  It saturated every grain of soil, every molecule of air, every ounce of blood, and drop of sap.  It pulsed and sang and danced.  It was such a fundamental part of this world that Harry knew the human one would smother it the instant they had the opportunity.  His instincts cried out the danger yet his curiosity was stronger.  The shadows moved in patterns all of their own and odd birds chattered in the distance as the wind rustled through the leaves.

_Is it sssafe to come outsss?'_ Anubis hissed in the young mans ear.  Harry stretched his senses out and found no wizards within the area of the forest he currently inhabited.

_Assss long asss you threesss are careful...'_

_Thanksss midget,' _Prometheus hissed before the three made a quick exit towards the canopy.

If Harry was not so contented at the moment he was sure he would have hexed them.

...

The boy stopped about an hour after he lost sight of the school grounds.  He turned around taking in the flora and fauna that thrived in the old forest's depths.  He could sense the creatures around him, some oblivious to this stranger among them, while others kept a wary watch for the dangers that this biped could introduce.  Harry sat down in a sunny spot among the roots of an ancient oak tree and rested as he looked out at the ocean of green that was only complemented by the occasional burst of colour.  Finally he could be himself and relax.  He shut his eyes and allowed the forest to lull him into sleep.

...

Where is he?' Grumbled a certain brown bushy haired Gryffindor.  She stomped through the halls having no idea where to locate her arrant friend.  She just wasted almost half an hour walking from Gryffindor tower to the Quidditch pitch in the hopes she could find him.  Ron being his normal pratish self had grudgingly admitted that his bed was empty by the time his dorm mates woke up.  His invisibility cloak remained at the bottom of his trunk.  He never showed up for breakfast and she had already checked most of classrooms.  She had stalked up and down the isles of the library and still had no clue where he could possibly be.  She had even ventured into Slytherin territory with still no luck.  Harry had promised that he would study, with her, for the charms quiz on Monday and instead of showing up he disappears.

That was it! If he was not in the Owlery when she went up there she would study on her own.  It will be his own fault when his notes are missing important details and he comes crawling to her,' she reasoned with herself.  It was already ten and she refused to waste any more time tracking down idiots.

...

Harry jumped from asleep to awake in an instant when he heard a loud blaring sound in the distance.

The hybrid was coiled up on a rock in the sun and all three heads looked around to discover the source of the disturbance.  They were quite happy basking in the warm sun.

_Phobosss which direction did it comess fromsss,' _Harry hissed quietly to his familiar.

Anubis and Osirus tasted the air and they started flying off in a direction that was off the beaten path.  With little internal debate the black green and purple haired preteen did his best to follow between the ancient trunks.  

A half hour later and there was still no sight of what had forcibly awoken the group.

Harry carefully made his way between the roots and underbrush.  The canopy above became thicker and thicker as the undergrowth scratched lightly against his bare forearms and black jean clad legs.  His glasses already shrunk and stored in his pocket along with his wand.  The breaks above in the canopy that allowed the sun's light to pierce the darkness were few and far between.

When Harry realized that he was relying on his sense of magic more than his eyesight to follow Phobos he started to worry.  He heard a soft clicking sound buried in the twilight and felt his sense of danger cause the hair on the back of his neck to stand on its end.  

_Phobosss,'_ Harry whispered.

The hybrid gave no response.

_Anubisss, Ossirusss, Prometheusss!' _The boy called louder at them.

Still no peep from his flying friends. 

He carefully walked deeper into the gloom.

He started to hear a soft clicking sound coming from either side of him.

His eyes no longer perceived any shapes beyond the deep shadows.  

Walking forward the young wizard passed through a silky veil that clung slightly to his clothing.

Not being a complete idiot the boy finally pulled out his wand and lit it with a quiet _'Lumos,'_ which produces a gentle crimson light with a slight change of will.  Looking around all Harry saw was the red silk.  The previously soft clicking increased in volume and tempo as he made his way down hill through the opposite side of where he entered.  He picked up the pace as he reached a white curtain which he pushed through into a clearing in broad daylight.  The clicking continued to increase in volume surrounding him by all sides until he reached the centre of the clearing and all noise ceased.

The silence was deafening.

A single hollow clicking sound came from the darkness.  The silk he passed through earlier hung from all of the ancient trees.

Harry turned to the noise extinguishing his wand as he raised it.

The clicking sound changed again in volume and pitch.  Harry swore he heard a name being called over and over again.

Argog!' They chanted. 'Argog!'

What is it?' A scratchy ancient voice responded from the darkness at the edge of the clearing.

Human!'  The word spoken from the darkness that surrounded him.  Harry noticed that he was at a low point of a valley and the ground rose in all directions.

Is it Hagrid?' The voice questioned.

Stranger!'  The clicking came back towards the young wizard.

Kill them, I need to rest,' the ancient voice responded.

The clicking picked up in approval as hairy legs came through the silk webbing that surrounded the clearing.  The curtain above started to be woven closed as Harry realised exactly who his current foe was.  Giant spiders the size of the carriages that brought him to and from school started to edge out into the now soft twilight.

_Phobosss!__  I could really usse the help,' _cried the boy who had quickly realised that he had little chance against the army of arachnids. 

A fire ball flew past as the spider closest to him tried to collect him to be carried off.  The winged serpent finally made its appearance.  The sight of the snake forced the eight legged beasts to pause for instant before they doubled their effort.

That was when the young serpents started to use their glares.

It took about twenty seconds for the hungry creatures to understand what was happening.  Almost instantly every single one panicked the clicking swiftly receding from the clearing, for their greatest fear had arrived at their most hollowed ground.

Harry carefully made his way through the petrified creatures.  Phobos lighting the way with their glowing eyes and flame kissed wings.  The three of them wrapped themselves securely around the young wizards shoulders protectively.

_Sssorry we were dissstracted,'_ Anubis hissed quietly in Harry's mind.

_It'sss all right, you were their when I needed yousss,' _a slightly shaken wizard replied as he started to make his way in the direction he thought the castle was.  _'Jusst next time don't cut it sso clossse,'_ the wizard stroked each of the hybrids heads in return.  Harry quickly coming to the conclusion that he would have to find what made the noise another day.

* * *

Sorry people thought I had already released this chapter.

OK question the students named in the sorting ceremonies especilly Philosopher Stone, are they all of the first years or is there room for other characters in a year? It is just that I read so often a character created out of thin air that had no prior indication of their existence. If there was only the named first years then that would make each house have no more than ten a year. So that becomes fourty total students from the four houses per year over seven years. Which makes it two hundred and eighty students all together over seven years. In reality that would be so non cosiquencial. If all british wizards attend Hogwart (with no private institutes) then that would only make the population growth of fourty a year. Is that enough for a community to sustain itself even taking in to account the larger life expectancy?

Reviews oddly enough do encourage people. Especially some one that brings up inconsistancies.

I like to know when I am wrong even though I always want to be right.


	14. Befoulment and the Incident

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. 

I figured out a perfect way for you people to find out when I will post the next chapter. If you are having problems with any of the secure features such as log in on ff.net then chances are that fate or what ever has decided that I can't post when I want to and hence refuses to accept my chapter. Test this theory it may hold true

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Harry stumbled out of the forest in the late afternoon sun.  The clouds that promised rain that morning were now covering half of the sky.  The halls of the school were quiet as Harry carefully made his way back to the Gryffindor common room.  When he reached the portrait that guarded the entrance he held up his hand brushing it lightly along the frame.  It swung open exposing the red and gold room beyond.  

Unknown to him one of his "best friends" was just catching up with him.  Hermione noticed the small action.  Fortunately she had other things in mind when she finally caught him half way through the room.

'Harry!'

The boy jumped, startled and whirled around, 'Hermione?'

'Where have you been?!  I have been looking every where for you!' the girl spoke exasperated.

Not knowing what she already knew schooled his features, 'nowhere really.  Why do you ask?'

'We have a quiz in charms tomorrow!'

'Your point?'

'Ron was being a prat and refused to leave his chess match so I went to find you.  And to my absolute amazement not a single person had any clue as to where you were,' she glared fiercely at the boy, 'you do remember that you said that we were going to study today?'

The boy shifted weight from foot to foot.  He had not recalled it until she brought the fact up.  He knew it was a practical test and thus had discarded studying for it as a low priority.  He had not had any problems with practical applications of magic since the year started yet he was careful to ensure that no one would notice that fact yet.  On the other hand theory was another thing all together.  He had no problem understanding magic, unfortunately it was the rest of the wizarding world that did.  He had to be careful and ensure that he explained the "right" way of doing things.  Otherwise he would draw attention to himself that he did not need nor want at the time.

The witch immediately latched on to the sheepish look on the young wizard's face.

'How could you forget?!' 

'I was distracted,' the boy responded flippantly.

'By what?!'

'Can you keep your voice down?' Harry tried to stop the witch from drawing so many curious gazes.  Ron shrugged his shoulders having finally looked up from what appeared to be an intense exploding snap match.  Harry cursed his pseudo-friend in the back of his mind as his attempt at quieting the witch failed abysmally.

'Harry Potter!  Tell me what was so important that you had to blow off our study session!  This instant!'

'If you must know it was a sunny day today and the lake looked so calm that I decided to take a walk.  Sorry I lost track of time...'

'A walk?  You threaten your academic career over a walk?'  Hermione said in a small poisonous voice, 'well who cares if you fail a charms test? At least you got to walk around the lake.  I have half a mind to hex you from here to next week!  I don't believe your nerve!'

She stormed up the stairs to her dormitory continuing to curse under her breath about how she was surrounded by idiots.

Ignoring everyone's glares he made his way up to his dormitory to grab a book before he left the tower to be some where no one would demand what he was doing.

'It was nice while it lasted,' he muttered to no one particular.

He noticed how his trunk was left open when he was sure that he had shut it before he had left.  There was little he could do about it at that point so he filed it away in the back of his mind.

The winds picked up and the skies fell.

The reprieve from the weather did not even last until sunset.

...

The rain continued to pour as the month progressed.  Harry had quickly found a charm that could keep him dry in the horrible weather, though he rarely actually used it.  The clean rain felt good as he flew around the pitch.  He still ensured that he was clean and dry by the time he left the entrance hall.  When Harry was high enough he could pretend that he was the only one that existed and that the wind and rain only sung to him alone.

Wood's training of that day had left most of the team in a bad mood.  Fred and George had just reported back from a session of watching the Slytherin team's practice.  Apparently they were little more than blurs buzzing through the air above the pitch.  Their newly acquired brooms gave them a clear advantage equipment wise.  Harry who had watched a few sessions of his own noted that their current team used more brute force tactics than any actual strategy and so their strength was their weakness as well.  His comment was hardly even measured by his fellow team-mates.  This was why the young wizard was in a bad mood as he trudged down the corridor.  He had used a cleaning and drying charm but he still wanted to take a shower to soothe his aching muscles.  Wood's response to Slytherin's brooms was to train all team members twice as hard.  He would no longer allow Harry to skive out on the team practice though the boy still tended to drift off on his own.  Harry laughed at the whispers he heard behind his back.  Apparently he had cracked sometime over the summer and was now mentally unstable.  He flew better than ever but no one dared to approach him outside the Quidditch pitch.  He shook his head when the whispers stopped when he had laughed out loud before heading towards the Entrance Hall and then through the corridors to his dorm.

Halfway down the hallway he heard a high pitched cackle that sent shivers of apprehension down his back.

Peeves was just about to complete a prank.

It was almost entertaining at times as long as you were not the target.  Unfortunately there was no one else in the immediate vicinity and a rather large bucket was slowly making its way down the corridor from behind the unfortunate second year, seemingly carried by thin air.

Just as Harry was about to pull out his wand and turn around the bucket came down and covered the poor student with muddy water and other gunk. The poltergeist laughed out loud as he fled, disappearing around the corner with the bucket to make mischief elsewhere.

As the boy spluttered a certain familiar cat took this moment to come around the bend.  Down the corridor it made a high pitched mew as it glared with her lamp-like yellow eyes at the mess that surrounded the poor student.  Harry knew better than to just stand there and allow himself to be caught by the caretaker and started to pick up his pace back to the tower.  Unfortunately running straight into the man he was trying to avoid was not the way a student avoids his wrath.  The said staff member was barely halfway through a tapestry when Harry barrelled into him.  

The boy knew he was in trouble.

Covering the said man in mud could be considered a hair worse.

Harry imagined he heard the poltergeist laughing in the distance as a purple nosed Filch dragged him down the hall towards his office.

...

Even though Harry had never been in the caretaker's office he was sure it fit the said man perfectly.  It was a dark windowless cell that hinted of feudal dungeons and long and not so forgotten torture sessions.  The ceiling was low and it was lit by a single oil lamp which hung from a hook by its handle.  Filch's pride and joy, a set of classic chains and manacles, specifically for the punishment of wayward students, hung from another hook on the stone wall.  A set of filing cabinets, which held the details of every punishment he had ever given a student, (the twins holding an entire drawer all to themselves) stood to one side of the desk.  The cool damp air stunk of fish oil.  Harry stayed still in the hope that he could draw as little attention as possible to himself.

Filch searched in his disorganised desk for some blank parchment.  Shifting a stack of papers an envelope fell from the desktop onto the floor by Harry's feet.  The boy reached down to pick it up only to have it snatched immediately from his grasp.

'Keep your nose in your own business, boy!  Make an example out of you I will,' the man declared with a passion. '_Name... _Harry Potter. _Crime..._'

'Peeves just...'  Harry was interrupted before he could complete his statement.

'_Conspiring _with that spirit!  I should have known.  No better than your father! _CRIME..._ assaulting a member of staff and befouling said member _and_ the corridors of this school.  _Suggested Punishment..._ week of detention. _House..._ Gryffindor. _Head of House... _Minerva McGonagall.  Follow me Potter!'

Harry was dragged up several flights of stairs to a door near the transfiguration classroom where the caretaker knocked harshly on the door.  A few seconds later an irritated professor opened the wooden door.

'Argus, how can I help you?'  Professor McGonagall pushed her glasses up her nose.  She turned to the student and her lips tightened, 'and Mr. Potter?'

'This miscreant decided he would cover me with muck and water!'

'Is this true Mr. Potter?'

'Miss, I was just heading back from Quidditch practice and Peeves doused me with a bucket.  I didn't mean to run into him miss,' Harry answered honestly.

'You just had practice outside,' the witch turned to the window watching the rain come down in sheets.  She then looked pointedly at the boy in front of her desk, 'in the rain and mud?  Peeves just happened to douse you with the very thing you would be covered in?  How convenient, Mr. Potter,' she answered in a disbelieving tone.

Before Harry could refute her claims she turned to the caretaker who almost appeared to be pleasant. 'What punishment do you recommend Argus?'

'He deserves far more but I recommend a week of detention...'

'That sounds acceptable...'

'Now see here you're always being to light on your students,' the caretaker already leapt into his standard rant not realising he just got exactly what he asked for.

'I just agreed to the punishment, to be served starting tomorrow night.  Next time you may want to try the truth. You may go Mr Potter,' the teacher calmly dismissed the gapping student.

...

Harry despised the rags that the caretaker forced him to clean with.  It was not like he was not used to manual labour, just that he was so tired of being on his hands and knees.  It was his last day of detention and Filch had already forced him to scrub the Entrance Hall for the fourth time in seven days.  The Halloween feast would be over soon.  Ron had tried to distract him during his detentions only ending up in his way and Hermione had scolded him for making the mess.  She was of the impression that teachers could do no wrong and believed strongly in the transfiguration teachers "fair" judgments.  Harry had taken this time to ignore them both so as he did not have to wear his mask of naivety.

On an interesting side note Professor McGonagall had launched an investigation into mischievous houselfs.  Apparently she had not been able to have a bite in the Great Hall in the last week.  She refused to sink down to her student's level and instead spent her meals in the kitchens.  The unfortunate thing with her was Phobos had tired of irritating Filch and had yet figured out how to get revenge against the poltergeist, on behalf of her master (they got out of the path of the bucket before it hit Harry) so she had the serpents' full attention.  On a more positive note Ron had successfully used a fork at Tuesday's supper.

Harry was cleaning out some of the rooms in the lower dungeons when the caretaker fumed down the steps.  'That's it; get out of my sight Potter!  If I see you mucking around again it will be two weeks.  Damn brats,' the gravely voice of the caretaker dismissed him muttering under his breath.  Obviously the man did not want to miss anymore of the Halloween Feast.

Harry started walking up the staircase to the upper dungeons, not really in any hurry to get anywhere.  His patience with the Gryffindors of his year was wearing thin.  Their emotions were so superficial that he wanted to beat some sense into them half the time, or cry out in frustration in the other half.

As he walked down the corridor he passed through a very morose looking Gryffindor ghost.

'Are you all right?' Harry tried sounding concerned for the nearly headless spirit.

'Why yes, young Potter, and no, today is my five hundredth Deathday.  I am having a perfectly respectable party, and just as I start my speech the headless hunt show up and crash it!' Harry caught sight of the half spent blue flamed candles.  The ghost started to float back towards one of the doors. 'You are welcome to come in if you are interested.  But where are your friends? And shouldn't you be at the feast already? Eh no matter,' the ethereal being drifted part way through the black velvet curtains hung in the doorway.

Harry not really wanting to join the end of the feast, not having any appetite, decided he might as well check it out and said as much before he satisfied his curiosity.

'So is it good that it is your Deathday or is it gloomy?' Harry questioned deciding he had no real reason to be tactful.

'It just is; you really want to come in?  Harry Potter at my Deathday Party,' the ghost's spirits rose as the preteen's fell.  He was really starting to hate Harry Potter.  He wondered if people could make due with just a cardboard cut out.  He was sure that he could figure out how to make a moving one.  Then people could have the two dimensional celebrity that every one used and discarded.  A disposable Harry Potter.  'I wonder if Voldemort could make do with one of them instead,' Harry mused aloud.

The room was cold.  All right the room was freezing but Harry hardly felt it, well besides wishing that he had his cloak with him ...and maybe a Weasley jumper.  Around two dozen musicians sat on a black clad platform playing musical saws?  The noise sent shivers down his spine.  He could see his breath as he exhaled.  There was a buffet table on the other side of the room, though he did not believe it was edible as he could smell the rankness from where he stood.  Looking around he was sure he was the only living person there under the blue light glowing chandelier.  Ghosts waltzed on the dance floor to the tempo of the almost painful music.  A group of them were being obnoxious on one side of the room tossing around their ...decapitated heads?

Harry edged around the room not sure what exactly he should do.  He caught sight of the Slytherin ghost, the Bloody Baron and instantly started walking in the opposite direction where he found himself facing the resident poltergeist.  Deciding he did not want an altercation with the said spirit observed the rest of the room and its occupants.

The young wizard, not wanting the attention drawn to him, edged around the room walking towards a ghost that looked to be around his age though with the spirit kind he supposed that looks would be quite deceiving.

The ghost looked confused when Harry approached her and he had no idea of how to break the ice.  

'Have you been dead long?'  Harry spitting out the first question that was on his mind though he kicked himself the moment it left his mouth.

'Coming to pick on me,' she cried out.

'Um, no I am not exactly sure who you are?'  Harry shook his head emphatically. 'I'm Harry,' the boy lifted his hand out to her.

'You really don't know me?'

'Am I supposed too?  Are you a Hogwarts spirit?' This seemed to be a bad thing to say for her eyes were brimming with tears, 'I am not trying to offend you miss.  I just think that I would remember meeting such an interesting ghost as you,' he did not want to have to deal with a bawling ghost at that time.

'_*Sniff*_ I'm Myrtle,' she said quietly as she stretched out her hand.  Harry reached to shake it only to have there hands pass through each other.

'Sorry, I forgot that we can't do things like that,' her cheeks darkened as she smiled at him.

'Nice to meet you Myrtle, where do you haunt?' the boy spoke almost with no consideration of his words.  He was cold and surrounded by dead people.  It was not as much fear that caused him to shiver as the ice in his veins from each time a spirit passed through him.

The girl looked kind of sheepish as she said, 'the second floor girls' toilets farthest from the Entrance Hall,' and then she giggled.  Harry took a double take hoping he was misreading the signs.  'How did you die?' He tried asking something to turn her away, instead her entire face lit up.  'I was crying in the toilet because Olive was teasing me about my glasses...'

'I can understand my cousin always broke mine,' Harry interrupted.

'Really? Did your mum or dad magic them back together?' Myrtle questioned.

'They're dead,' he said morosely.

'I am so sorry,' she said, 'I did not mean to upset you,' she gave her sympathy.

'No it's ok.  It happened a long time ago,' he smiled to show he was not hurt before grimacing as something hit the back of his head.  He turned and watched as a larger piece of rotten food came at his head.  He ducked only to hear the poor spirit behind him squeak.

'Do you want an escort madam?'  Harry turned and asked Myrtle who giggled.  He needed an excuse to leave and to avoid Peeves' continued attention.

She nodded and glided through the curtains across the door.

'Sorry for taking you out of there.  You're free to go back if you want,' Harry apologised to his companion.

'Why would I do that every one else picks on me?'

'I was told once the reason they ganged up on me was because I reacted.  If you don't react it takes away the bullies fun,' he recited a discussion a school councillor had given him after his cousin and friends bloodied him up when he was nine.

'Really? Does it work?'

'Not really they just tried harder to get me to react,' Harry responded as he walked up a staircase to the second floor.  As Harry walked along the corridors he started to hear something.

'...and then she said'

'Do you hear that?'  Harry interrupted the ghost as he started to hear the snake's voice from the Lockhart incident.

_' ...time to kill ...to much time ...Aegisss locked insssidess ...Aegiss sso tired ...neverss agains bearded oness ...sso hungry,' _the serpent hissed.

'No what?'

'Don't worry,' he improvised, 'I thought I heard the feast ending.  But I guess I was wrong,' he said quietly still listening to the voice.  He did not start to worry until he heard the voice panic.

_'... I smell blood ... I SMELL BLOOD!'_

Harry's stomach lurched when he heard this and he continued to pick up his pace until he was all out running.

_'...blood sspilt on my groundss...'_

He dashed down several corridors in an attempt to find where the blood was.  The voice became faint and disappeared ahead of him.  He rounded the last corner to find himself in a deserted corridor.  He heard someone running off in the opposite direction.  He would have followed but something else caught his attention.

'Are trying to get rid of me that fast?'  Myrtle angrily spoke from behind him. 'Just who do you... Oh?'

Oh indeed.  At the far end of the deserted corridor between two windows a message was painted in foot long letters.

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.**

Underneath the crimson message something was hanging from the torch bracket.  Harry carefully approached the wall to get a closer look.  

Mrs Norris, Filch's pet, hung by her tail.  She was stiff as a board with her eyes wide open staring at the floor.

At first he thought Phobos was responsible.  They had a tendency to target things that had wronged themselves or their bonded.  Fortunately or unfortunately the message implied definite human intervention and to his knowledge his familiar had yet worked with any one else besides him. 

As he started to jump in an attempt to get the cat off the wall he heard a distant thunder signalling the end of the Feast.  He knew the cat was petrified, he had received enough of the hybrids "presents" to know that.  The fact that he had no idea of how to undo the work of another creature never crossed his mind as his fingertips brushed the feline's whiskers.

The rumble of footsteps from hundreds of well fed students approached him.

'I _KNEW_ IT!  SLIMY  BACKSTABING SNAKE!'  Was the only warning he had before he was tackled into the wall from behind.  He was forced to turn around as the same someone threw a fist at his face.  Not being a complete idiot he quickly moved out of the path of the fist right before he heard bones cracking.

'What is going on here?  What is the meaning of this?'

Attracted by the scuffle and large gathering of students, Argus Filch elbowed his way to the front of the crowd.  His face paled as he noticed his familiar still hanging from the wall.

'My cat!  My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris?' he cried out in horror.

His shocked wide eyes fell on Harry as the furious Ron Weasley punched the young boy in his stomach.

'_You!_' Filch shrieked, '_You!  _You've murdered my cat!  You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll -'

_'Argus!'_

I voice filled with authority interrupted the not quite sane man mid-rant.

_'Mr Weasley!'_

Professor McGonagall cried out as the headmaster swept past them to inspect the cat.  During the scuffle they had rolled away from the wall.  Harry was just slightly winded while the red haired child had one broken hand and a bloody nose (something had to give and apparently the nose was weaker than Harry's forehead).  The said Weasley unfortunately was blinded by both pain and rage seemed to continue pummelling the boy-who-lived, who was trying to catch his breath.  Finally the Gryffindor head of house forcibly separated them with a flick of her wand.

'Ms Granger could you please assist Mr Weasley to the hospital wing.  Argus, Mr Potter,' he nodded his head in acknowledgement to each person, 'please follow me.'

Lockhart cleared his throat and offered them the generous use of his office.

'Thank you, Gilderoy,' said Dumbledore.

The quiet crowd parted to let them through.  Ron and Hermione headed in the opposite direction from the procession of staff.  

Lockhart's office was just as he remembered it from last time.  As the man lit the candles surrounding the room Harry had to stifle his amusement in the rollers held in various images hair.  The man from the pictures seemed to be very proud of the fact that they were using his office for such an important meeting.  Snape stood to one side seeming to hold back a smile at the situation.  Whether it was from Harry's imminent punishment or Mrs Norris' predicament the boy knew not.

Filch was sobbing as Lockhart continued to expel his intelligence by talking about curses he had seen in places few even knew if they existed.  He felt sorry for the caretaker but he knew Mrs Norris would be perfectly fine as she was only petrified.  As Harry thoughts drifted towards how he could track down the assailant Dumbledore brought him back to the present by confirming what he already knew.

'Ask _him_!' Filch declared accusingly pointing at the young wizard in training.

'No second year could have done this,' said Dumbledore in an authoritative tone. 'It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced -'

'He did it, he did it!' Filch screamed hysterically, as his face darkened. 'You saw what he wrote on the wall!  He saw - in my office - he knows I'm a - I'm a -' his face contorted as the man spat his bitter words. 'He knows I'm a Squib!' Harry tried not to laugh out loud. He _really _tried not to, unfortunately he had recalled the meaning of the word from a half forgotten conversation with Neville the previous year and it was _Filch_ after all.

Unfortunately his attempt failed, earning him a glare from all present.  Snape's lips twitched at the situation whether it was at Harry's expense he was still unsure of.

'Mr Potter!  These are serious allegations.  They are no laughing matter!' Professor McGonagall scolded as she held back the caretaker.

'I _did not _do anything to that damned cat!  I was just trying to get her down from the wall!'  The entire room stared at him half with disbelieving looks.

'_Rubbish_!' Filch screeched. 

'If I may,' Snape stepped forward.  'Potter might have simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time,' he sneered as if he did not believe his own statement, 'though we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. What was he doing in an upstairs corridor in the first place?  Why was he not at the Hallowe'en Feast?'

Harry started to explain the detentions before Snape interrupted him.  

'Mr Filch carried your detention out over a meal?'

'Professor McGonagall authorised it,' Harry almost whispered as the mentioned teacher thinned her lips even further.

'Now see here! This is going off topic.  What was Mr Potter doing in the corridor?' The irate transfiguration professor snapped.

'I was walking Myrtle back to her bathroom if you have to know!'  Harry practically shouted at the woman.

'Who?' Lockhart questioned with a confused look.  

At this point Harry explained his attendance of the Deathday party and their subsequent fleeing of said gathering.  He left out the part where he heard the snake's voice for he had no desire to expose his gifts when he did not need to.  Though the headmaster's magic did pull his ability from him.  He knew he could not stop all information without him becoming suspicious.  So he fed him enough truth to sate the man's curiosity.

'I do not believe that is the truth and until you do speak it I shall supervise your detent-'

'Minerva, I must insist that he is innocent until proven other wise,' the headmaster cut her off before she declared the punishment.

'My cat has been Petrified!' Filch abandoned all reason in his furry. 'I want to see some _punishment_!'

'We will be able to cure her, Argus,' declared Dumbledore. 'Madam Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes.  As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made which will revive Mrs Norris.'

'I'll make it,' Lockhart butted in.  'I must have done it a hundred times-'

'You mean the one that uses salamander tails?' Harry questioned innocently to which the Potion Master raised an eyebrow as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor responded with the unique method he had to slice them.

'Professor Lockhart I believe our Potions Master is more than able to handle it on his own,' the headmaster said ignoring Snape's amusement.  'Harry you may go,' the boy was dismissed.

As Harry walked down the hall a pale figure appeared in front of him. 'Did you get in much trouble?'  Myrtle asked worriedly.

'Not really but thanks for being concerned,' Harry liked her honesty.  None of the old goat's magic clung to her.  He briefly wondered whether it was intentional or an oversight.  'Are you OK with going back to your toilet on your own? I really should head back to my common room,' he said with no great enthusiasm in his speech.

'You did not have dinner?'  Apparently Myrtle had heard at least part of the discussion.

'No, but that's OK I was not hungry any-'

'Codswallop!  Follow me.  I know how to get into the kitchens.  I went without several meals trying to avoid everyone before someone showed me how to get to them,' she started to float through the wall before she floated back out.  'I suppose we have to go the living way won't we?'

... 

Over the next few days the attack had several effects.  Some of the effects were desirable; some of them were not so desirable.  For one, the one time forgivable whispers behind his back were now a constant background noise.  For some of the Hufflepuffs he was the new You-Know-Who.  Even the Gryffindors evaded his presence when ever possible including his various "friends". 

'...his best friend...'

'...disappears all the time...'

'...don't even talk to him...'

'...laughs when nobody is there...'

The Transfiguration professor kept her eyes locked on him when ever she was in the same room with him that is to say her gaze was more purposeful than the rest.

There was one issue he could address.

Revenge.

He had written vampire friend seeing if he had any ideas to take down certain spirits, particularly one, the resident poltergeist.

The Ravenclaws took to their books seemingly even more dedicated to their pursuit of knowledge, though if Harry sat at a table in the library they would discretely edge away from him until he had a buffer of at least a table in all directions.

The most interesting issue was that some of the Slytherins looked at him reverently while others had fear on their face, Malfoy, the exception to every rule, found it extremely entertaining as he watched the various students' reactions. 

He over heard at one point Hermione's frustration in not being able to find a copy of her bible, _Hogwarts: A History_.  He certainly did not want to point out that he had a copy of it in his possession.  He had read through his copy at one point before the Mrs Norris incident and reread it in the early hours of the morning.  The second time, he noticed something he had not read previously.  It was funny how his finding was not in some footnote of some obscure passage, but in the credits at the beginning of the text, "_Reedited by Albus Dumbledore 1962_."  He soon filed this information away in the back of his mind for use in at a different time.

* * *

OK the reason I have not responded to most of the reviews is because I fear giving away to much of my plot. Every thing I write I order it so as that it can coincide with known facts of the Harry Potter Universe. One of the things people have forgoten is most if not all canon Harry's knowledge of the wizarding world is all second hand. What he is told and what is the truth could potentially be two seperate things.

Now I am going to thank my reviewers and readers from the last chapter:  
**_Miss Lesley _**_- be careful what you believe as the truth  
**Elssha**-thank you for sharing some of your thoughts, you have given me a few directions to look for the answers  
**Phoenix Lumen, hikari-kage, Yasha, SmacksKiller, Melissa, deathsshadow**- thank you for the encouragement I am glad someone is enjoying this  
** Dumbledore**- you have provided me with quite intelligent reviews that has only spurned me to continue on with this story  
**Star Mage1**- special shout out for grabbing my inconsistancy_

_now to those that have only reviewed to beg me not to have slash- I will repeat a statement that I put in a prior chapter, I write to what I want at the time of writing not to any individuals demand. If it is to be slash it will be slash, if it is not to be then so be it. Nothing any of you say will discourage the thought and the very act of your attempt only makes me want to do it just for spite._

_Finally **coolpadfoot**- your reviews almost convinced me to just dump this story. I respect you right to your own oppinion yet I will say that his lack of friends is necessary to the plot. If you are bored so easily then I doubt you would be able to pick up most of the undercurrents. That being said you did give me several issues to think about that I had not considred before so thank you for voicing your oppinion. If I end up blocking your reviews it is nothing personal. I would believe I could not handle your level of critique at that point of time. All characters I have created have never been out of convenience but a necessity. My reasonings are my own. THis should be the only time I will justify myself to you._

_To everyone who has ever placed a review regardless of nature thank you for putting forward the effort they are what encourages me to continue_

**I think I might start looking for a beta. I need someone that is open to everything and can pay attention to the details. The bit with _Star Mage1_ had me so a paranoid that I had to go over the whole story several times untill I was satisfied that there were no more glaring inconsistancies. I want some one that can remain unbiased but has no fear of critisizing as well as able to put up with my multiple personalities.**


	15. Plausible Deniability

Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter.

Please let me know if I have substituted quallity for quantity.

* * *

Severus Snape finally was off in his personal little world.  He was doing what he loved.  The aromas and steam surrounded him in the warm glow that the bubbling cauldron cast off.  He carefully stirred the pale gloppy mixture that hissed and cracked every few seconds so as to keep it from spoiling.  After several hours of careful brewing he added the last ingredient to his draught, three drops of adolescent Mandrake extract.  Almost instantly there was one last great bubble that broke the surface, before the mixture became as thin as alcohol.  It smelled of chocolate but tasted like wine and was considered one of the greatest of the healing potions known to wizard kind.  He only made it for his own personal stores.  As he let the potion cool off on its own he walked over to another cauldron and threw a pinch of a white powder into it before he picked up a crystal rod to stir it in a figure eight pattern.  The Arrowroot, even though it gave the potion a horrible flavour, sped up the regrowth of the bones.  It was not essential but Madam Pomfrey would not allow her patients to remain in pain for over a week as the original formula slowly regrew their bones.  Personally he could not see why not.  It kept them out of his classroom for an extended period of time.  Amazingly it was always Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs that were idiotic enough to experiment with charms on themselves.  It was like clockwork almost every year and he even had a running bet with the nurse about whether or not the Weasleys would have to use the potion again before the end of their seventh year.

Thinking of foolish Gryffindors, the Potions Master had a new puzzle that was now available to him.  Harry Potter is not the same boy he saw at the end of last year.  He still looked the same and shared mannerisms with that brat, but inside he was different.  So far it had not been brought to his attention by any of the other staff members and he had even thought he was imagining it until that one inconsequential remark proved it.  If he had allowed the grinning idiot to brew the potion that Potter suggested he was sure that the man would for once know his limits.  

He grinned at the thought of the prepubescent voice the man would be forced to have until the counter potion could be obtained.  It would have been worth the few extra months for another set of Mandrakes to mature.  The suggestion by itself would not be surprising if any old ingredient could alter the potion but Mandrakes are unique for their restorative properties.  (It was a balance he supposed.  The positive nature of their components counteracted the lethal cries that it produced.)  It was almost impossible to force it to act in any other way.  There were barely a handful of ingredients that could do so if added and these he had only read once in his entire Potion Mastery.  He only recalled it when Potter quietly suggested the Salamander tail, for these were among the above mentioned handful. Not even seventh year knowledge.  It was possible that the boy stumbled across this in some obscure passage and remembered it for trivial purposes, but the spontaneity of the barb and the very obscurity of this hinted otherwise.  If so this could not be the same boy he belittled the previous year.  Yet all of his tests and essays to date have been exactly as they should.  The errors he makes are the same ones any second year should make.  His answers were uniquely his own with maybe a line or two of Granger's regurgitated garbage in his essays.  Thus the enigma, known as Harry Potter, was formed.  If Potter was as well read as he hypothesised then why would he not be showing off?  His father in the same situation would ensure that everyone would know how impressive his knowledge was.   At the very least the Potter senior would have applied the knowledge to his everyday class work.  He felt sick at the though of so much potential being squandered.  He was starting to get a headache just thinking about it.  He would best put it out of his mind because the brat was not his responsibility.  If he ignored him he might just go away.

...

_'Perscribo,'  _a very useful spell.  Harry had stumbled across it in an old charms text that he had picked up at one point.  Writing down essays was somewhat inconvenient.  With just quill and ink he would have to write a letter followed by another to make up words which when strung together made sentences which progressed to paragraphs which when grouped made sections and eventually this jumble of words became essays.  This was perfectly fine if you did not mind taking a few hours to pull it all together.  With the charm however most of the process could be circumvented.  Its intent, to transfer words from idea to reality, using whatever material it is cast upon.  The young wizard was now able to cast entire paragraphs straight to parchment (the most important factor being he was able to shape the writing as his own) so now instead of hours it only took him minutes to complete his homework (not including the time it took to reread the necessary chapters.) 

The green eyed Gryffindor was up, in the early hours of the morning.  Dawn had you to break as he sat quietly in his room.  Harry called it his room because he had found that it was easier to just come in to the lounge he had commandeered than to walk on egg shells around his house mates.  He even had a cot in the corner from a broken quill he had transfigured.  Albeit it was no four poster, it meant that he did not have to be in the dorms for any longer than it took him to shower and grab a change of his clothes and his books.  The rest of his time he spent in secluded areas where there were not dozens of students around him watching to see when he would strike next.  He enjoyed taking walks by the lake and along the battlements.  The tops of the towers (even though they were hard to get to) especially appealed to him.  When he got the courage he even visited Myrtle in her loo.

Phobos had left him two nights ago without prior word.  Harry was not really worried because between the invisibility and lethal glare nothing could even get a chance to harm the three.  He still felt them on the edge of his senses but he was sure they were nowhere near the school.  They had been quite insistent about not hanging Mrs Norris (not that the thought had not crossed their mind) and they had no clue besides finding the one who did it to fix it.  He might have been worried at one point what exactly they were up to but the small number of existing parselmouths limited what they could do.

As far as experiments potion wise from the "Book incident" onward Harry had not touched any of them.  They may be useful at some time in the future but right at the moment he could not figure out where he would use the Drought of Living Death and no matter how much fun it would be to slip a house mate truth serum in their tea it was supposed to be a restricted substance and therefore could cause him quite a lot of angst if anyone were to report it.

His mind started to wander into what plans needed to be made to ensure the safety of his guardians when the empty Privet Drive was found.  He hoped that no one would notice it before he had already completed schooling so as there would be no reason for anyone to do anything.  He knew his luck and his fame and imagined it would be found out within the next year that no one lived at his previous address.  It could cause a problem if some individual took it into their mind he needed more of Dumbledore's "protection."

In his musings Harry had not noticed the increase of foot traffic in the corridors until something grabbed his attention.  A good sized package appeared floating about a metre off of the stone floor in front of him.  He immediately pulled out his wand and re- warded his door before he whispered to Phobos it was fine for them to become visible.

_'We comess bearing giftsss!' _Osiruscalled out into the room.__

_'She got lost!' _Prometheusaccused.__

_'Who wasss it that had to sstop and sssample the local wild life?' _Osirus countered.__

_'Their sssmell was unique!'_

_'It wass a blassted skunk!' _Anubis hissed in response.__

_'Well if you had not let the blood sssucker bathe usss we could have been back even sssooner!' _the other two simply rolled their eyes.__

_'Invisibility is pointlessss if they can ssmell yousss a mile away!' _an angry hiss came from Anubis.__

_'Ssso they would not knowss what they smellss!  We could sstay in greasssy_ _manss sstore and we would fitss right inss,' _Prometheus tried a arguing a new angle_._

_'Do not even think about going near greas- Ssnapess sstoress. I think he hass a tendanccy to sshoot firsst and asssk quesstionss latter,' _Harry spoke firmly. _'I for one do not want to know what potionss he would ussse your partsss in!'_  As one they turn towards the young wizard finally acknowledging his presence.  They immediately set down the paper wrapped package down followed by a small envelope.

_'Sshouldn't you be at breakfasst?'_ Osirus hissed.  The three shrunk a few sizes before curling around his neck and vanishing into thin air.  Their familiar weight across his shoulders provided some small comfort.  At least someone at the school was still willing to be around him.

He grabbed his school bag as he locked and warded the door on his exit.  He knew Hogwarts would ensure that no-one would find his room, but the wards made him feel safer especially if he had a Damon present situated in the middle of the room.  It was more for everyone else's safety than in fear of theft that he added the wards.

...

'Minerva he is not going to vanish into thin air the moment you take your eyes off him,' a grinning Herbology teacher spoke to her colleague.  'What on Earth did he do to earn your continuing wrath?'

The Transfiguration teacher blushed scarlet and mumbled something under her breath.

'What was that dear?' Poppy questioned from her other side.

'He sent me Lockhart's blasted fan mail from his detention,' she hissed in aggravated tones.

'Is that all?  I thought that the Twins have done far worse,' the uppercase "T" was emphasised so all staff members knew exactly which twins.

The Transfiguration teacher mumbled something under her breath which caused the hospital matron to spit coffee across the table.

'It was my _favourite _scratching post!' McGonagall glared.

'Surely a simple repair spell could fix it?' the nurse questioned.

'That is not the point!  I am still frightened when ever I go near it now,' Professor McGonagall hissed back.

'What do fan letters and scratching posts have to do with each other?' Professor Sprout questioned.

Minerva McGonagall's response was to place her head face down on her arms on top of the teacher's table in the Great Hall.  Madam Pomfrey only laughed harder but she tried to collect herself when the Transfiguration teacher waved her to explain.

'Apparently Minerva used to play with her scratching post before her classes, at least that was the rumour Filius had been spreading.  At the time she received the fan mail she was already "active,"' the matron only grinned, trying to keep a straight face.

'But what does that have to do with anything?'

'She was playing inside the post...'

'Pardon?'

'It is a real nice one with all these openings that I could climb in and out of.  There is this little catnip mouse on a string in the lowest section,' Minerva decided she might as well get it over with.  'The letters buried it,' she turned to look directly at the Herbology teacher, 'while I was inside.'

...one

...two

...three

All eyes in the hall turned to witness two female staff members hysterically laughing on either side of an extremely red McGonagall with her head in her hands.

The last mumble from the Professor was not audible to anyone but herself.  Which considering some of her choice words was a good thing in a school filled with impressionable young children.

...

Snape had kept him back after class to scrape gunk off of the desks.  Harry grumbled under his breath as he worked, about idiots and cauldrons.  The task took him most of lunch.

Harry grabbed a sandwich from the kitchens before he made way to his lounge to check out the package Damon had sent him.

...

_Hey kid, _

_Here is a book that should have what you want.  I have been reading over it over the last few weeks trying to find some decent spells but I figured with your imagination that you would come up with the right one._

_I don't know what your friends got into.  I had to get a mate to deodorise them before I could get near them.  My kind tends to have very sensitive noses just so you know.  _

_Please send them back in about a week I should be able to give you a lot more details._

_Be careful with the text.  It is ministry highly restricted material (some of it is not quite human magic but it should not be too much trouble for you to handle.)_

_Your fanged friend_

_PS Too many people are around at the moment to do any of the usual spells so I hope this comes right to you_

...

Harry immediately tore into the paper wrapping to find a thick book encased within.  In thin writing in gold letters the cover of the book read _'Diacompotis Vox Manesoti.'_  The pages were made of parchment that was brittle under his fingers.  The first thing that he did as he opened the cover was to cast a dozen different preservation charms.  He had experience with a book several weeks ago that had disintegrated underneath his fingers.  He was forced to use a very high powered _reparo _in order to restore it but he had learned his lesson.  With another swish and flick the archaic language that it had been written in instantly translated itself into his language of choice, parseltongue.  He was glad that Damon had given him that spell for it upped the level of security of his, ahem 'rarer' texts.  As he started to read it he heard the bell sound. Cursing the timing he quickly grabbed the book and shoved it into his bag before he headed to his next class, History of Magic.

When he arrived at the classroom there was only one seat left.  This is not to say he was running late or that the class was full but there was only one chair for him to sit in.  Initially he was confused as to why this had happened at almost every class he turned up in sans potions, but after this had happened over a few days he turned up early (invisible of course) to see what was happening.  The students apparently were transfiguring the chairs around them to save seats for friends. (Otherwise known as project "Keep the Evil Young Dark Lord Away From Me")  They were always careful to leave a seat for him in fear of what he might do in the attempt to gain a chair from one of them.  It had hurt until he rationalised that it was nothing personal.  He still was bitter about it even though he had accepted the reality.  If he held anyone to blame it was the Transfiguration professor who introduced the disproportionate transfiguration a year ahead of the proposed syllabus.  She had particularly shown how to turn a chair into a matchstick and back. 

Harry left his essay on 'The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards' on Professor Binns' desk before he took his seat.  Hermione and Ron ran into the class just before the teacher appeared, coming through the blackboard.  They took two seats that 'magically' appeared two desks in front of him when Lavender waved her wand at a set of quills.  Hermione actually had guile to turn around and look guiltily at him before she sat down.

Harry knew anything less than the school falling down on his head (and because he is ghost even this is in debate) would distract the teacher from his lecture, so he took out his newest book to gain some insight of what kind of spells he was looking at.  

Professor Binns drone faded to the background as he started to turn the pages.  The book contained detailed description as to what rules ghosts obeyed in their movements through their afterlife.  Where they could go, what they could do, how they did it, what caused them to continue in life even after death.  It even made some references into the true afterlife that Harry was positive no human could have any perception of.  Its nature and how it affected the land of the living.  This was a curiosity that the young boy would sate later when he could afford the time that would be required of the research.  He hoped that Damon could at the very least point him in the right direction for the materials.  Then there came the spells and rituals that could be preformed on these spirits.  Ones of banishment, of protection, of binding, on finding or losing, the possibilities were endless.  There were rituals that could last for days and spells that were nothing more than a swish and flick.  Some altered appearance or nature, their clothing or what they remembered.  Spells to silence to blind to deafen.  To freeze and burn.  Spells that could give them senses into life and references to rituals to resurrect them.  Spells of blood, of body, of bone, and soul.  The further that he read into this the more he realised how dark the magic could be perceived and the fact that this book barely hinted into greater spells that had been created specifically for the spirit and the soul nearly frightened him.  Quickly discarding the rituals as too complex the wizard started to pick out simple spells that were not too malicious.  He found a spell that would force the poltergeist to be solid and ones to force him to remain visible.  Another charm that made him obey the laws of physics and a few that would banish him or wards to keep spirits out of a house that Harry quickly realised he could modify them to apply to single rooms or sections of castles.  He imagined what would happen if he bound the spirit to a common room like Slytherins or Gryffindors.

...

It took Hermione Granger half an hour to finally work up the courage to interrupt the professor.  Really it was a matter of internal debate as to whether or not her question was more important than the lecture that the ghost was giving.  Her deciding point to this was that because of the internal debate she was missing more of the lecture than understanding it.  Her hand slowly rose up into the air.

Professor Binns looked up from his notes and stopped mid sentence.  His mouth opened and shut several times almost as if he had no idea how to handle this situation. (When she latter thought about this she realised it very well could have been true)

'Miss - er -?'

'Granger, Professor.  I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets,' she forced her voice to remain steady as she ventured the question, that was so far off topic, in the middle of the class.

She heard a thump come from a desk to her right and noticed Neville was rubbing his chin as he appeared to be waking from a daze.

'My subject is History of Magic,' he wheezed as he looked sternly at her. 'I deal with _facts_, Miss Granger, not myths and legends.' He cleared his throat as he attempted to get back on track.  

Anotherstudent may have lost courage in this light but his blunt refusal only fuelled the witch's curiosity.  She raised her hand and started to wave it around, a different time she would have been mortified at her action.

The professor's shock only increased when he was interrupted a second time in as many minutes.  It took a moment for him to collect himself before he addressed the student.

'Miss Grant?' Hermione forced herself to forge on.

'Please, sir, don't legends always have basis in fact?'

The witch now had the full attention of the professor, who at the moment looked to be recovering from a mild shock.

'Well,' the ghost said slowly, 'yes, one could argue that, I suppose.'  He focused completely on Hermione as if it was the first time he had ever seen her. 'However, the legend of which you speak is such a very _sensational_, even _ludicrous_ tale ...'

Now that he had the entire class' attention Hermione knew he could not stop.  She finally might get some of her questions answered.  Hence, she might be able to focus properly on her studies.

The professor seemed amazed at how many students were focusing on him in the middle of class.

'Oh, very well,' he caved in. 'Let me see ...the Chamber of Secrets ...'

But no one ever heard what the professor knew of the Chamber of Secrets.  When questioned later by the various professors and headmaster the class would only be able to comment on how they had felt this wave of freezing ...power surge through the room before there was a flash of blinding light. When they looked up the professor was gone, never to be heard of again by anyone in the wizarding world.

...

'You all know, of course...what the..?' 

The ghost blinked and looked around.  The room was dark and absent of any students.  He did not have anything with him.  Not even his most cherished notes in his possession.  He appeared to be in some sort of kitchen but he had never seen it before.  He thought it was of muggle nature because between the lack of house-elfs and the cleanliness it could not be any wizard's that he knew of.  On closer inspection he was positive it was a muggle kitchen.  Even though he had never seen one in person he recognised some of the appliances that rested on the countertop.  He had regular tea on Thursdays with the Muggle Studies professor and Professor Emission had the tendency to collect muggle things in all states of repair.

Out of curiosity he started to look around.  On top of the stove he found this object that he could not discern its purpose.  It looked similar to a clock but it did not have any hands nor did he hear any ticking from inside.  There appeared to be a little knob in the centre that when he turned he finally started to hear the ticking.  Apparently the face itself moved.  Not knowing how to stop it he just set it down and continued his exploring.  Through an archway he floated looking around to find himself in a dining room.  No where near as large as Hogwarts Great Hall but still large enough to fit at least a dozen people a sturdy table sat in the middle of the room.  Pictures lined the walls of what he assumed was the family.  He did not recognise any of the individuals and he was glad of that for they looked like an unsavoury bunch of characters.  He approached a glass door that apparently led to the outside.  He started to wonder where and when he was for when he peered through the glass he came to the conclusion that it was the middle of the night, the stars shown clearly in the night sky above.

It was at this point that he heard a buzzard go off in the kitchen.  He made his way back there not noticing the grunt or footsteps that came from above him.  The buzzing sound was coming from the sort of clock.  He turned it over in an attempt to figure out how to shut off the annoying sound.  He never heard the opening of the kitchen door and did not notice anything amiss until he saw this metal stick thing pass straight through him smashing the clock thing that he was holding before slamming into the stovetop.

He turned around and heard this bloodcurdling scream come from this extremely wide man, before said man backed away into a corner, breaking down in the gibbering mess.  

Maybe it was the first time he had seen a ghost?

'Sorry about the intrusion ...er do you know where Hogwarts is?'

The large mans eyes widened as his face paled before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head.

'I guess I should take that as a no?'

...

He really had not meant to.

He really, _Really_ did not mean to.

He had found the perfect revenge; he could kill off two birds with one stone.

The spell was rather simple and only required a moderate level of power.  The ritual to collect the power would not be needed because he instinctively knew he could direct the amount of magic himself.  He had been paying no attention to the class around him and never even saw Hermione raise her hand to ask her question.  The wand movements were very precise and the casting words were an archaic Latin that required precise pronunciation.  He was lucky that he had been reading it in parseltongue because it was such a phonetic language.  The spell itself was to bind a spirit to an individual or a family but the best feature of it was that the spirit became unable to appear or affect anyone or anything unless it was directly related to its bound target.  That way only they would be able to see or hear it and all mischief that he could do would remain limited.  The targets in his mind were Peeves and his beloved relatives, the Dursleys.  He started to practice the wand movements as he attempted to get his mouth to shape the words correctly.  

This would have been all well and good if he had not felt the surge of magic that had gathered around him leave him.  Quickly looking up to see what he caused, he noticed that his History of Magic professor was missing.  To compound the situation all of his classmates for some reason were fully focused on what the said professor had been saying.  They all looked around confused as Harry cursed under his breath before slipping the book back into his bag.  

Thankfully no one was blaming him for it yet.

Unfortunately the rumourmongers would for once come to an at least partially correct conclusion.

Harry Potter had gotten rid of the only non-living professor to date.  The fact that this banishment occurred just as the professor was about to reveal his knowledge of the Chamber of Secrets did not bode well to the supposed future Dark Lord.

All it took was a little research and any individual would know that any magic that is supposed to effect ghosts was of the darkest nature.  Even though the headmaster still insisted he was not to blame every one else in the school now feared him.  The headmaster only encouraged this silently as he intentionally left himself open as Harry's ally when all others were to turn against him.

...

'Hey Harry?'

Harry jumped in his seat and turned around to find his only human friend, living or dead.  'Myrtle, you scared me.  How did you find me?'

She giggled and grinned.  'You are right underneath the prefects' bathroom,' she replied as if that was an obvious answer.

'What do you have to do with the prefects?' Harry knew there was something he was obviously missing.

'No matter,' if she was mortal he was sure she would be blushing. 'I am just glad I ran into you,' she abruptly changed the topic. 'A witch dragged the redhead that attacked you into my bathroom.  They started asking questions as if you had anything to do with that awful cat.  Then they started getting really rude and started whispering about me while I was still standing right in front of them!  I got so upset that I flushed myself all the way out to the lake,' she said morosely.

'You know that what they say and do has nothing personal to do with you, right?' Harry questioned the spirit.

'Then why do they always pick on me?'

'I suppose that it is because no one knows you so they don't feel as bad when they offend you,' he responded quietly.  'I bet they don't even realise they are doing it half of the time and with the other half who are you going to tell?  At least people talk to you though,' the boy spoke morosely.

'Am I a person?' The ghost questioned quietly though there was a glint in her eye.

'Of course you are, but you know what I mean.  Everyone else runs away from me as soon as they realise that I am there.  Why aren't you afraid of me?'

'Well, you are nice enough when we talk and it is not like everyone is just begging to be in my company.  They all think I will go bawling the instant they walk in my toilet!'

'Myrtle you said yourself that you can be overly emotional at times.  It is part of this whole moping persona that you have built.  What was the name you told me they called you?'

'Moaning Myrtle, there is no reason for you to go dragging it up now is there?'

'They call me You-Know-Who as if I am already going off and gathering followers and going on killing sprees!'

'Well you did petrify a cat and vanish a ghost,' she gave him a broad grin as she asked; 'do you take requests?'

'Hey!'

'Oh I know! You can set up a suggestion box in the entrance hall,' Myrtle declared, 'take recommendations of who your next target is!'

'Myrtle...'

'Maybe even let them suggest a method of offing them!'

'You are pushing it...'

'Oh maybe it could be last requests!  People could let you know how they want to g-'

Myrtle started laughing as a pillow was thrown through her head.

'Well I will be going if you are going to be getting violent,' she exclaimed as she stuck her nose into the air and passed through the wall.  Just as Harry sat down on a couch she stuck her head back in to the room, 'your lordship,' then she vanished as the wizard glared at the spot where she had departed.

...

Harry decided earlier in the day that the untamed fear that his peers had of him could be a mixed blessing.  In Defence Against Dark Arts the professor had attempted to re-enact his amazing feat which saved a poor village from attacks from a vicious werewolf.  The man had not even made it through his introduction before he started whimpering from Harry's glare. 'Whimpering for heaven's sake!  Really!  This from a full grown wizard who had apparently faced off against the very worst that the magical world could give.  Well at least he excused us early,' the boy thought to himself, though it was an interesting side note that Hermione and the red headed idiot had stayed after to talk to the blond buffoon.  From the little that he heard from the corridor the two were attempting to retrieve a book from the Restricted Section of the library.  He would not have been surprised if the idiot gave them an unrestricted pass, which after a second thought would not be that bad of an idea.  It might not have been too noteworthy if it had been any individual beside his one time friends.  Between those two a little knowledge could go a long way.  He just hoped that their current subject of investigation was not himself.

...

Harry woke up early.  The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match was to be played from an hour before noon.  Admittedly Harry woke up early almost every day and after all it was just a simple game.  In the grander scheme of things it was nothing.  Chances were that almost no one would remember anything more than the score come graduation.  He would be the same person when he lands as when he takes off yet the entire school would judge him depending on if he caught a little gold ball.  The fact that they all thought he was a dark lord would be ignored in the final moments of the game.  If he caught the Snitch he would be once more idolized by three quarters of the school.  If he didn't then they would try to vilify him even more if possible.  Regardless, within a week they all would be afraid to utter his name once more.  Oh how far their one time hero had fallen; yet he remained the same boy that had stepped on the platform at the beginning of the year and chances were that he would be the same boy who stepped off it at the end of the school year.

Harry climbed out of his bed and carefully pulled on some comfortable clothes.  The only one to comment anything about his change of wardrobe had been a brief positive statement the first morning of term.  All of the wizarding blood roommates probably saw nothing beyond the fact that it was muggle.

The air was cool and slightly damp as he made his way through the hallways in the pre-dawn grey hours of the morning.  There was a secluded spot on the shore of the lake that he liked to sit when he wanted to be alone.  _No one here questioned his motives._  The forbidden forest's edge crept out onto the school ground so as if he pretended hard enough he could find himself isolated from the rest of wizard kind.  _No one talking behind his back._  Dew was forming on the grass as the sky continued to lighten.  _No one twisting words until truths became lies._  The wind was cool against Harry's face and suggested possible rain to come.  _No dark corners and no dust filled passages.  _Gentle waves lapped against the grassy bank.  _No one sitting and judging him on events he could not even control.  _The giant squid made patterns across the surface of the water and Harry wondered if it ever rested.  _No whispered conversations held where people believed he could not hear. _The birds slowly woke and their song drifted in the fresh morning breeze.  _No friends that never were. _The humidity was so high that the boy was surprised that the air was not thick with rain.  _No fools or idiots who spoiled even the nicest of days.  _The sun rose as the fog on the far side of the lake evaporated.  Once the golden flaming orb cleared the horizon Harry stood up to make his way inside.  

Wings kissed his neck letting him know that his familiar was still with him.  They would stick by him through thick or thin.  

...

Considering there was a match today Harry figured he would have to sit with his house at least for breakfast.

Harry was just a little late to the meal.  

When he walked in there was only one seat left at the table, right next to Colin Creevey.  Regardless Harry's best efforts the kid was still star struck in his presence, which Harry found quite unnerving.  Harry wanted to avoid such a situation at that moment in time so he quickly cleared his throat and asked for a house mate to make room for him only to be stoutly ignored.  Not wanting to confrontational he turned to another only to find the same results.  After two more attempts and realising that his house mates actually _were _moving only the moved so as he would not have any room.  Giving up Harry finally moved to sit next to Colin only to have a fifth year take the seat.  

Growling in frustration and not wanting the school to think they could just bully him he walked over to the nearest table and said 'Boo!'  Instantly the Hufflepuffs (which was the closest table to Gryffindor) cleared a space for him a metre in all directions.  He sat down and ate his scrambled eggs and toast ignoring the glares from the three houses.  Harry did not want to even see the Slytherins laughing at his expense.  Anyone who made even a peep towards him was silenced by the murderous glint in his eye.

...  

After breakfast Harry quickly made his way to the dormitories.

He dug through his trunk to find the small runic scroll.  He had advanced far enough that he was able to etch and activate some of the minor runes of power.  The more powerful ones required a firm foundation on all of the minor ones.  If he understood it properly if he tried to use any runes that were not properly guided it could cause quite a bit of damage.  Just trying a minor rune of destruction without the initial foundation runes almost brought down an entire wall in his lounge.  If he had not been able to reign in the magic... he did not even want to imagine the consequences.  Vanishing an individual ghost, that was not a key part of the wards, was one thing.  Taking out a wall that is an essential part of the structural integrity of the school was an entirely different matter.  Not that it would be a catastrophe.  All that would happen is every staff member keyed to the wards would know that the damage had been done in a section of the school that should have been magically inactive.  The rest of the schools wards would shift to accommodate the excess loads until when and if the repairs were complete.  The castles wards were of a variety that has been lost in the interim since the founding of Hogwarts.  They would still exist until the last foundation stone was shattered and even then they would fight the destruction with as much force as possible.  Even then the dust itself could possibly sustain them.

If his inability to test them was not enough of hindrance each rune was not only created by the scratching or drawing of an archaic character but by the emotions and thought and will guided into it.  The symbols were just that, symbols.  Essentially, if he so desired, he would eventually be able to create them by sheer force of will alone.  The symbols were just a guide, a grounding point to reality.  Something that could be calculated and quantified if need be.  If he could not sense the magic behind each of them he would hardly be able to use them.  That was part of the lessons of the scroll.  As well as encouraging thought and idea it increased sensitivity to the world at large.  Not just magical but empathy, and life and death, of mankind and machine, of reality.  Each time he opened the scroll the lessons increased in difficulty and precision.  His ability to sense was slowly exercised and built up over time.  Unknown to him Harry had already achieved a level beyond what most humans could.

While Harry was lost in his work the time shown by his watch slowly approached the time of the match.  He may have missed it all together if Prometheus had not stuck his tongue in Harry's ear and whispered that it was time.  Quickly the boy sat up from his four posted bed in his dormitory and grabbed his broom before heading through the castle and towards the pitch.

...

The whole team was there besides their Seeker.  Harry really did not need the encouragement if the practices were any indication.  If his pure natural talent had not secured him a position last year the sheer balls that he had been showing at practice would have guaranteed it for him.  If last year he was born for the air this year he was one with it.  As long as the boy even put an ounce of effort this season they were shoe in for the cup.  But it was a poor captain that relied on the actions of a single player so the rest of them needed one of Oliver's famous pep talks.

'Slytherin have better brooms than us,' he began, 'no point denying it.  But we've got better _people _on our brooms.  We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers-' a classic twin comment inserted here '- and we're going to make them rue the day they let that bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team.'

Moments after he finished the speech the green and purple streaked ebony haired second year made his way into the locker room.

'Close one Harry, I almost thought we were going to have to forfeit,' Oliver commented just loud enough for everyone to hear.

'Sorry lost track of the time,' the boy replied.

'You ready to fly today?'

'Sure,' he nodded.

'Let's go win!'

...

The air suggested that a storm was brewing.  Harry thought he heard thunder coming from near the horizon yet the clouds were not quite ready to release their loads.  The crowds cheered wildly as the Gryffindors made their way to the centre of the pitch though the Slytherin supporters made their views known through their boos and hissing.  Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher and referee firmly instructed the two glaring captains to shake hands.  Harry thought that at least one of them broke some bones in the 'firm' hand shake.

'On my whistle,' announced the teacher, 'three... two... one...'

The crowds cheered as the fourteen players rose into the air.  Harry could tell exactly where the Snitch was already.  Its constant presence sung on the edge of his mind.  He had no desire to end this match too early so he just decided to do a little free flying.  Malfoy sailed below him an instant before a Bludger tried to pummel him.  Harry dived out of the way only to have it come right at him a moment latter.  Fred and George were focusing on the other one as the ball missed his head by a few hairs' breaths.  Looking around to see where the other players were the boy wondered why the Bludger was so focused on him.  He was not too scared of it and only the thought crossed his mind that it added a little more challenge to his game.  As Harry did a loop de loop to avoid the Bludger as Malfoy circled the pitch in a lazy figure eight pattern.  As Harry dropped several metres before rising at an angle, the clouds threat started to become a reality.  So at the moment Harry had to actually try to focus the Snitch.  The Bludger barely missed his elbow when he was momentarily distracted and he started to become annoyed.  The wind forced the rain to whip against his exposed skin.  Gryffindor started to edge ahead in points as they had more experience with the wet weather.  The Bludger whistled past his ear once more forcing Harry to try and focus entirely on the blasted ball that wanted nothing more than to crush his skull.  

Not sure what exactly was wrong with it he tried to find the other Bludger that was not to far away.  The difference in their spells were subtle but finally he saw how they were warped and with a twist of effort and a little will he bent the other Bludgers magic to the first ones hopefully restoring it to its proper state.

'SMASH!!'

He had let his focus of the Bludgers drop a moment too soon and payed the price as one slammed into his elbow, breaking his arm.  Harry did not even have a chance to cry out as the other came towards his head.  Diving to get out of the way the first Bludger followed his tail.  

The wind really picked up and the house banners that were attached to the stands waved frantically.  Oliver had just saved the ball as Angelina raced to the opposite end of the pitch to score bringing it 130 to 90, Gryffindor's lead.  The Slytherin goal keeper did not even notice her until the ball sailed through the hoop.  

A Bludger swooped under Harry's broom as he briefly stood on it to get his feet out of the way.  Instantly the second one aimed for his chest forcing Harry to swing under the broom holding on with his one good hand as he circled the handle like a gymnast on a set of parallel bars.  Not even waiting until he was firmly seated he manoeuvred the broom so as he zig zagged out of both Bludgers' paths.  Quickly he realised that he screwed up big time and instead of one insane Bludger aiming to maim him he had two.  

The twins looked around the pitch confused trying to find the balls that were their responsibility.  The Slytherin Beaters not in much better shape. 

Quickly tiring of the evasive game Harry located the Snitch which at the moment hovered not to far away from Malfoy and dived down in a path that he hoped would bring him close to it without drawing too much notice.  The gold ball all of a sudden decided to drop fifty metres forcing Harry to go in a steep dive while he held on and cradled his broken arm to his chest.  As his hand clutched the gold ball their was an explosion from behind him that knocked him off his broom and into the mud, that had at one time been the pitch, with a splash where he briefly blacked out.

...

To say Draco Malfoy was nervous would be an understatement.  He was surprised that he did not throw up as he stood there in the middle of the pitch.  He had seen Potter play last year and even he had to admit bitterly that he was good.  If only Potter had not improved over the summer he might have had a chance.  His mind drifted towards that odd encounter during his first practice session.  He almost felt like he connected with him up in the air that day.  When Potter dived off his broom only to pull up on said broom the last possible instant holding the Snitch in his hands Malfoy knew he could not even dream to compete against him.  A Malfoy never admits defeat and he already had plans in his head of cursing the boy so he could win.  He knew it was the only way, but then came the entire heir thing and the firm orders from his father to keep a low profile.  At first he laughed it off.  I mean how could the light's Gryffindor golden boy be a danger?  He still imagined himself at this point slipping a potion into his goblet or something but then there was that entire disappearing teacher incident.  It was not the rumours that bothered him but the fact that the green eyed wizard was not denying them.  He had denied that he had petrified the cat vehemently.  He said that he was not the heir.  Yet he did not make any fuss when the students pointed at him as the one that banished that ghost.  Draco knew exactly how dark the wizarding world considered spells that worked on spirits and if the Gryffindor had access to them the chances were he had access to other Dark Arts sources.  This is what planted the seed of doubt.  If there was one thing that was stronger than the Malfoy desire to win it was their survival instincts.  Their family had existed through seven separate governments including three separate reigns of one dark lord or another as well as aiding at least twenty separate dark campaigns without their name being sullied in the process.  Malfoys would thrive in peace times or war times.  It was an accepted fact and even at a young age Malfoys could tell the direction history would be heading.  All of Draco's survival instincts screamed for him to leave the boy-who-lived alone.  So Draco had already accepted one loss for a possible win in the long run.  After all he knew without out a doubt that if Potter played on any professional team he would be unbeatable.  

He knew that with Potter at full capacity he had no chance in freezing hell to win.  So he calmly walked on to the pitch his new broom gripped tightly in his right hand.  His brand new green robes billowed slightly in the wind and he had already consciously accepted defeat.  As he rose into the air with his acceptance his nerves faded and he just enjoyed the chance to fly.  He made a pass under the smaller boy and noticed that his eyes for the most part were closed.  That was the point that he decided if he was going to lose he was going to go down trying.  Five minutes into the game he noticed Potter's acrobatics which took him a bit to realise that he was trying to avoid a Bludger.  He knew that it had been tampered with and wondered if someone on his team wanted to increase their chance of winning.  Draco doubled his effort to find the Snitch keeping his eyes focused at a distance so as he could spot it immediately.  His attention completely on finding the winged ball he almost missed the Bludger hit by one of the twins near the scoring area.  Fortunately he was able to drop down in time and instead the ball curved its path so as now it was heading towards his counterpart.  As the ball got nearer his jaw dropped when all the boy did in response was close his eyes.  Not even an instant later reopened them.  Draco never even noticed the change in weather conditions as his attention refocused on finding the Snitch.  He felt when the Bludger was making its way towards him and tried to duck out of the way only to be shocked as he turned around and found both the heavy balls attempting to pummel his opponent.  Distracted in his musings of above mentioned balls he missed Potter's initial dive only to catch on quite quickly.  He saw the Snitch that was flying down ward now and knew instinctively that Potter's path would take him to directly intersect the gold ball's own.  The two Bludgers continued to tail him moving in such a way that it looked like they were dancing with each other to a tune that only they could hear.  The other Seeker pulled up short to grab the ball but he never realised how much danger he was in.  The dancing Bludger both made a last ditch effort to murder the boy only to find that their paths intersected.  Draco felt the waves of magic rush off of them as they smashed into each other, destroying themselves in a violent explosion of magic and energy.  After madam Hooch blew her whistle signalling the capture the blond Slytherin made his way down to the now muddy pitch and carefully weaved his way through the advancing crowds to the Slytherin locker room.

...

As Harry slowly came to he realised that he was now surrounded by several concerned house mates.  His focus quickly trained itself on a figure that was leaning over him.  It took a moment to comprehend what was happening but by the time his mind was ready to respond it was already too late.

'Not to worry, Harry.  I'm about to fix your arm.'

He slowly sat up as he could feel his bones burning, already starting to knit together.  He heard a familiar clicking noise.

'Colin, send that camera home right now before I decide to transfigure it into something not quite edible and shove it down your throat,' Harry growled at the boy.

'Sit back, Harry,' said Lockhart soothingly. 'It's a simple charm I've used it countless times.'

'How about I go to the Hospital Wing instead?' said the boy as he started to search his memory for an appropriate curse.

'He should really, Professor,' said a muddy Wood, who had a grin pasted on his face from ear to ear regardless of the condition of his Seeker. 'Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say.'

Students gathered round as Lockhart rolled up his jade-green sleeves. 'Stand back,' he ordered.

'Don't!'  The bones of his arm were already once again whole but the, Professor, ignored him.  With a twirl of his wand he pointed it at Harry's arm.  He felt the magic twist through him but he was already too tired to fight it.

Harry felt as his recently knit bone vanished from its present location as well as all the other bones along his arm all the way up to his shoulder.  When he heard the frantic clicking noise he turned to glare at Colin and the boy's camera lens shattered.  He instinctively knew that he could heal his a broken bone himself as long as there was one to heal but he was frightened of the fact that he was unsure of how to re-grow a missing one.  He knew it was possible and he hoped that the school nurse knew how.

'Ah,' said blond idiot. 'Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen.  But the point is, the bones are no longer broken.  That's the thing to bear in mind.  So, Harry, just toddle up to the Hospital Wing - ah, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? - and Madam Pomfrey will be able to - er - tidy you up a bit.'  And there were his one time friends once again who immediately started fussing over him like they had not bashed and snubbed him respectively.  They ignored his glare as they carefully dragged him to the nurse.

'Those Bludgers could have killed you!'  Ron exclaimed.

'I kind of realised that when they started hurtling as me,' Harry growled out.

'I know you must be upset with how we have treated you but you wouldn't tell us what happened!'  Hermione said sorrowfully.

'Did you even ask?!'

'Well you should have told us!' Ron shouted.

'What? When you called me slimy backstabbing snake or Slytherin scum?' Harry roared, 'or when you started to beat me up!'

'Well-' Harry interrupted Ron before he could try to give some feeble excuse.

'Oh I know how about when you joined the rumours about me being the next dark lord!'

'But-' Hermione tried to interrupt Harry's rant.

'Hey I know how about this morning when I tried to sit down and you had all the people around you move so as I could not find a seat?'

'We were-' Ron again.

'How about when you started shooting curses at me while I slept!'

'I um-'Ron fumbled.

'Oh I know the time you burned my homework that I had been working on for five hours straight!  You just looked ready to hear me out!'

'We're so-' Hermione tried to input.

'Oh no!  Don't think you can even start to apologise.  You called me a backstabbing snake and look what you did to your supposed best friend,' Harry glared.

Hermione had the audacity to try to defend herself.  'I didn't do any of that though!'

'Granger quick question,' Harry stopped for an expectant pause, 'did you even once try to defend me?'

'Well I...,' she could not say that she had.

'Silence is the greatest crime of all.  When neither of my best _friends_,' the Seeker spat bitterly, 'defended me the rest of the house and then the school started believing the rumours that they were spreading.  Especially without any evidence more than me being at the wrong place at the wrong time,' Harry paused as if in thought.  'Correction.  Let me make that at the wrong place at the right time because now I know exactly who I can trust.  At least this knowledge did not come to light when I might have actually needed you.'

'Harry-' Hermione cried.

'No! Don't even try.  Don't even speak my name!'  He glared at them both. 'You disgust me!  I am sure I can make my own way from here without you hypocrites,' he turned to walk down the hall.  'At least I can know that you won't lead me to some abandoned class room to stab me in the back for real,' he spat back over his shoulder as he stormed his way to the hospital wing.  He just moved his head out of the way when Weasley shot a curse at him.

...

Madam Pomfrey was not pleased when amateurs attempted to heal others.  She even remembered when the same Hufflepuff had done the exact same thing the first time he tried to.  She was however relieved that this time this patient seemed to be able to accept magic.  The potion went down smoothly enough and he hardly even commented on its taste.  She did not know if the potion would even work but she hoped that the burning sensation that he was talking about was a good indicator.  He sat quietly the rest of the evening thinking to himself.  He even appeared to be studying at one point.  She did not even have to chase the Gryffindor captain out when he came to visit leaving a few sweets on the side table.  She shook her head sadly when the boy pointed his wand at the chocolate frogs and uttered a revealing spell.  She knew he would never have it easy.  She was glad that he had turned out as well as he did considering his harsh life.  She knew the signs of neglect and abuse but it was not her say to go against the will of Albus Dumbledore.  It was just another crime that she put on her imaginary list of her friend.  She knew that he had to make hard choices and often...

-for the best future for all of his charges.

...

He spent most of the afternoon having a mental conversation with his three no-legged friends.  He cheered up when Prometheus told him that they were happy to consider him a slimy snake.  The three tried to tell him about some of their adventures.  Harry never knew how interesting the dungeons could be and wondered how hard it would be for him to enter some of the rooms that the three described.  He was positive that the castle would allow if he asked.

During dinner the matron had left for the Great Hall and a house-elf brought him his meal.  He had to eat one handed and kindly rejected the trio's aid.  

Myrtle came to visit soon after he finished his meal but vanished through a wall when the hospital ward's door swung open.  The matron came back in and asked him if he was comfortable and fluffed up his pillows before she wished him a good night ensuring that the blanket was firmly tucked up around him.  

He pulled out his runic scroll and started to continue his studies.

...

He had no idea about how much time had passed when he heard the quiet crack that indicated a house-elf's appearance.  The Hogwarts elfs were unique in nature, most house-elf are bound to specific individuals or families where as the Hogwarts ones were bound to the castle itself.  Usually this implied that the headmaster or the board of governors had the highest say to them.  They were even more unusual in the fact they actually knew of the schools consciousness and respected the castle and its decisions.  That is the reason why Harry Potter was given more authority than any other individual since the flying car incident at the Opening Feast.  Not that he knew this fact.  The only noticeable difference that he found was that they had no fear of him only respect and if he ever "forgot" to grab a meal they would chase him down.  Unfortunately they were not the best conversationalists for the school's secrets were its own and house-elfs refused to ever reveal them.  

Harry's mind drifted from his musings when he heard a slight scrape as something moved a chair in the dim light and then carefully stood up on it.  When Harry caught sight of the house-elf he could not refrain from gasping.  The poor creature was filthy and the rags it wore barely covered him.  He was slightly emaciated and the wizard realised that not all house-elfs were treated with the same respect as Hogwart's.

The pitiful creature lifted a sponge to Harry's brow and Harry noticed that his own eyes were closed and he had been using his other senses to 'see' the house-elf.  When the small creature climbed on top of him in order to reach his forehead easier Harry carefully opened his eyes.

'Hello, little one,' the wizard spoke softly so as not to startle the poor creature too much.

'Harry Potter!' the small creature cried. 'So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir... Such an honour it is...'

'So,' Harry raised a single eyebrow, 'am I what you expected?' The poor creature's eyes only widened and it looked like it might faint any second.  'Oh my you had better sit down you look like a light wind could throw you off.'

'_S-sit down!_' He wailed. '_Never ...never ever ..._'

The boy felt terribly horrible for distressing the elf so much.

'I'm sorry,' he spoke quietly; 'I didn't mean to offend you or anything.'

'Offend Dobby!' Dobby gasped.  'Dobby has _never_ been asked to sit down by a wizard -like an _equal _-'

'Trust me; I am not your usual wizard.  There is no reason for you to get so flustered,' Harry tried to comfort the poor creature.  'Here let me,' the wizard waved his wand and cast some silencing wards around the room so as he did not have to worry about attracting undue attention.

Harry knew a little about creatures and knew how they would react to any negative words towards their family, so he held his tongue at the comment he was about to say.

'How can I help you?'  he ventured instead.

Harry really started to question the poor elf's mentality.  If he had not thrown up the silencing charm he thought the wails of gratitude would have brought half the school down on him.

'Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby ... Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew ...'

'Rubbish, the Harry Potter that you speak of is an ideal created by the rest of the wizarding world who just give into the media's sensationalism.  I am no greater than any other wizard.  Maybe just a touch more lucky,' the boy spoke his opinion of the matter.

'Harry Potter is humble and modest,' said Dobby reverently, 'Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He Who Must Not Be Named.'

'Voldemort?' questioned Harry.

Dobby pressed his hands hard against his bat-like ears. 'Ah, speak not the name, sir!  Speak not the name!'

'Sorry,' Harry apologised. 'I know several people that fear his name.  It is all right to be afraid.'

Dobby's eyes widened as he leant forward, 'Dobby heard tell,' he harshly whispered, 'that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just months ago ... Harry Potter escaped _yet again_.'

Harry gave a curt nod and indicated the elf to continue as the elf's eyes started to tear.

'Ah, sir, Harry Potter is valiant and bold!  He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he _does_ have to shut his ears in the oven door later ... _ Harry Potter must not stay at Hogwarts!_'

'Why am I different from all the other students?'  Harry shot the elf a glare.

'Harry Potter came back to school.  Dobby tried to _warn_ Harry Potter!'  This comment had Harry take a closer look at the creature in front of him.  What he found made his eyes widen.

'It was you at my relatives' house the night when the wards failed,' something tickled the back of his mind when the elf nodded and then it came to him, 'and you're the one that sealed the barrier!'

Dobby's eyes were as wide as saucers as he trembled, 'Dobby knew not that his magic would not stop the great Harry Potter!  Dobby sealed the platform barrier so that Harry Potter would miss the train,' tears welled up in his eyes but Harry waved them off.

'Don't worry there was no harm done.  I made it here safe and sound,' Harry finished trying to ease the elfs troubles to little affect.

'Why did Harry Potter come back to school?  Dobby was so shocked when he heard that Harry Potter was back at school he let his master's dinner burn!  Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir ...'

Harry discarded the cruel images of the violence of the punishment.  'You _wanted _to keep me from coming back here?'

'Harry Potter _must _go home!  Dobby thought that his Bludger would be enough to make -'

'That was your Bludger?'  Harry said amusedly.  'Thanks, I needed the challenge, of something else trying to take off my head.'

'But Dobby _never_ knew about the other Bludger!  Dooby wanted to send you home, grievously injured, not _kill _you!'

Harry blushed at this comment, '...uh, that sort of was my fault-'

Dobby ignored him and continued his pleads, 'Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!'

'Oh, is that all?  Is there a reason for this?'

'Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!' Dobby groaned, tears were now soaking his pillowcase.  'If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world!  Dobby remembers how it was when He Who Must Not Be Named was at the height of his powers, sir!  We house-elfs were treated like vermin, sir!  Of course, Dobby, is still treated like that, sir,' he admitted as he scrubbed the tears from his face with a corner from the pillow case that he wore.  'But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He Who Must Not Be Named.  Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sir ... And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more -'

'So there _is _a Chamber of Secrets and you say it was opened _before_? Can you tell me what you know?'  Harry did not notice the elf reach for the water jug before it was too late.  The elf smashed his head with it causing himself to fall off of the bed.  A moment later water jug and elf reappeared from the edge of the bed.

'What on Earth was that for?  Why did you just try to brain yourself?'  to say that the wizard was shocked was an understatement.

'Dobby had to punish himself, sir, Dobby almost told Harry Potter, sir, of Dobby's family's secrets.  Ah, sir, ask no more!' Dobby cried out loud.  'Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen. Go home, Harry Potter. Go home.  Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis to dangerous -'

'Dobby, if the person who has opened the chamber is specifically after me then it would only delay the inevitable,' Harry tried to reason with logic to the creature.

'Harry Potter must go home,' the house-elf sobbed.

'What about all of the other students here?' Harry questioned, 'I can't abandon them when I can help!'

'Harry Potter risks his life for the sake of others!' Dobby cried out in tormented bliss. 'So noble! So valiant!  But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not -'

Harry heard the sounds of people approaching.  If he knew their magic it was his two favourite staff members.

'Dobby must go!' the house-elf cried before the loud crack that indicated its departure.

Harry let the silencing wards drop with barely the sound of a soap bubble popping.

The Hospital Wings door swung open as the headmaster carried in, what Harry knew in an instant was a petrified Colin Creevey.  In a different situation might have gained some amusement in Dumbledore's attire, but he realised how tense the situation was. Professor McGonagall then moved through the doorway, carrying Creevey's feet.  They both heaved him up onto a bed.

'Get Madam Pomfrey,' whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurriedly made her way to a doorway at the opposite side of the ward.  Harry kept his breathing constant so as not to alert the staff to his consciousness though he knew that the old goat already knew such things.  He would have been an idiot if he did not feel the brief tingle that indicated the silent status check.  After an exchange of furious words the two witches made their way towards the other occupied bed.

The matron gasped. 'What happened?' she queried quietly when she caught sight of the frozen student.

'Another attack,' said Dumbledore. 'Minerva found him on the stairs.'

'There was a bunch of grapes next to him,' the Head of Gryffindor spoke. 'We think he was coming to see _Potter_,' she hissed.

'Petrified?' whispered Madam Pomfrey.

'Yes, but I shudder to think ... If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate, who knows what might have ...'

Harry felt exasperated when he felt the camera resting in the first year's hands.  He felt a slight shift in the magic around Dumbledore as he prised the camera out of the boy's death grip.  Apparently someone repaired the camera for the first year.  He could almost bet money that it was Lockhart.

'You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?' asked Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Though on closer inspection there seemed to be something odd about it...

'Good gracious!' Madam Pomfrey exclaimed.

Harry opened his eyes to see if he saw the same thing that he sensed.  The acrid smell of burnt plastic confirmed that his other senses were completely accurate.

'Melted, all melted ...'

'What does this _mean_, Albus?' McGonagall sounded frightened.

'It means,' said Dumbledore, 'that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.'

Harry was the only one that could sense the glee held by the headmaster's voice behind his façade.  'What could the headmaster gain from this?' the boy thought to himself.  The staff's conversation ended soon after this statement and they all retired for the night.  Harry wondered how it was only he who noticed the headmaster destroying the film.

* * *

Thankyou to everyone who reviewed you have **_spurred _**me to release this chapter so soon. I fear that the quick turn over might have lowered the quality of my work. And I also thank all my readers, for without you what point would a story have?

_**Elssha** - my Lady, I always read the reviews regardless of their contant. I had no intention as coming off so harsh in that statement, for that I appologise to anyone I offended, it was not my intent  
**szelij** - fear not, the resolutions to the problems you highlighted are already woven into the future plot. I guard my secrets well.  
**Dumbledore** - what's an 'n' between friends?  
**Gryphnwng** - I already have most of my key events mapped out. My stories hardly ever leave my mind. I have not set how many chapters I will have, nor hav I any idea of what the final word count is. Right now I am undecided as to whether I am going to break the story up so as I do a new story for each year or if I should just forge on with it only under the one name. There is no finale planned for my story. I have enough new ideas to continue with this well beyond graduation if I wanted.  
**hikari-kage, Melissa, wanderingwolf, sharade, Mikito, SilverKnight7, Eriee, and Angelis1** - thanks for the positive feedback  
**fullsailnate** - I sent you an e-mail. The key to any character is the motivation. Readers don't need to know it but for writers in ensures the characters are consistant.  
**Zekkers** - Dumbledore has other ways of controling people than magic, so I will say Snape has free will just no choice in what he can do.  
**Luthey1** - thanks  
**Star Mage1** - I am a unique case to my shrink, but I do not want to pull up any of his notes.  
Thanks for the offer of beta-ing i'll send you the next chapter when I am finished with it.  
To those inconcistancies that you highlighted, what I wrote is what I intended in those cases. The maths will become clear later on.  
**ManIACjAcKaL** - _*growl*_ stupid freaking tenses. Why is it that you had to highlight the largest problem I have in my writing?  
**Cataclysmic** - you know I get a kick out of getting reviews to authors of stories I like (what is taking so long with the next chapter? *evil grin*)  
**when reviewers pop up out of the woodwork**  
**sabriel-chan**_*GLARE*_  
**JadedEros** - *bashes head against keyboard repeatedly* You know I want to nibble on your neck, I just don't go for much blood._

Thanks again everyone for your support. I have gotten this far because of you.


End file.
